some kind of bliss
by desolation
Summary: Things get a little too close to home for D. Shounenai, LeonxD. Discontinued.
1. As The Vine Curls Her Tendrils

Title: some kind of bliss

Author: desolation

Rating: NC-17 overall, R for the version archived here.

Warnings: AU, angst, shounen-ai/yaoi, a bit odd.

Disclaimer: insert self-deprecating yet witty denial of ownership here

Author's note: This story's expanded considerably from the 5 chapters it was originally meant to be, so I've updated the warnings and rating accordingly. It was begun shortly after I read Volume 3 of the manga, and kicks off somewhere before the events of Vol. 5, making it an AU. So, no Chris, sorry. Constructive C&C are always received with thanks, flamers will be sprinkled with soy sauce and fed to Tet-chan.

Many thanks to Mouse for beta-reading : )

* * *

The day was warm, and sweet with that freshness that comes after early-summer rain. Streets pulsed with the chatter and hum of a city just crawling out of morning grouchiness and settling into its daily routine, and even the haze of smog that hung low over the rooftops seemed gentle at this moment, lending the harsh edges of concrete tower blocks a certain Impressionist romance.

In this particular corner of Chinatown, the clamour of the outside world faded to little more than a background murmur and the dark spice of newly-lit incense was just beginning to infuse the air, offering those who ventured through the heavy doors the merest taste of that exoticism, that mystery, that they had perhaps always longed for but never yet dared touch. Still, a little of the air's unusual clarity penetrated the dim interior, preventing the incense from becoming cloying and bringing with it enough of the cool, clean outdoor smell to be refreshing. All in all, one could not have hoped for a more pleasant start to the day.

D hummed softly to himself, a contented smile playing over his lips as he poured the third cup of tea of the morning. The shop was clean, the animals fed and watered, their happy noises melting into a gentle wash of sound. He closed his eyes, and reclined gracefully against the brocade cushions. This week had been quiet, and today seemed likely to be no different – after all, this was the sort of day that seemed to soothe humans into a kind of calm. It was sunny, and not so sultry or hot as to send men mad with desire. He could relax, D decided. And perhaps dear Detective Orcot would stop by after work with a box of chocolates, or some of those little fruit tarts he enjoyed so much. Yes: that would be perfect.

His smile deepened as he recalled their conversation of the previous afternoon. The detective had wandered in during his lunch hour, as he quite often did these days, with his habitual scowl and some hastily-purchased candies – not, perhaps, what D would have chosen himself, but of a fairly good quality. Leon was certainly learning. His tone of voice as he'd accepted the Count's invitation to tea had, as always, been grudging, and he'd plonked the box of confectionary down and flopped into his customary position on the couch without looking up, but D had known he was watching. He was also quite delightfully aware of how his reaction to sweets made the detective struggle to keep his frown in place, and had been unable to resist fluttering his eyelashes and giving a theatrical squeal of delight as he swooped on the sugary offering.

"Why, Detective," he cooed, eyes shining with mostly-unfeigned excitement, "You are too kind!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Leon's gaze was still averted, unkempt shock of hair hiding most of his face. But was that a blush? D had to raise one hand to his mouth to hide a smirk of amusement. He thought, briefly, about feigning concern, enquiring whether the detective was quite well and watching him turn a few more lovely shades of crimson, but relented, turning away to pour cups of tea and arrange himself leisurely on a chair. He supposed he should give Leon chance to regain what little composure he ever had, and so busied himself with the chocolates in the meantime.

"And what is it that brings you here today, Detective?" he asked, once Leon had gulped down a few mouthfuls of tea and stopped looking quite so discomfited. "I do hope none of my pets have been… misbehaving?"

Leon shrugged. "Nah. Just… thought I'd say hi. Y'know."

D, of course, did know. He toyed again with the idea of teasing the detective a little more, of seeing just how much Leon would put up with before taking refuge in another display of temper, but decided against it. Instead, he just raised one neat eyebrow, remarked "How very thoughtful of you," and reached for another chocolate.

"Jesus Christ, D, haven't you had enough of those? You're gonna make yourself sick!"

The box was already three quarters-empty, and Leon might just have had a point. D, however, merely took a small bite from the edge of the sweet and allowed an amused smile to cross his face as the taste spread over his tongue.

"You scold me, Detective," he observed, "And yet you never fail to bring a box of chocolates when you come to visit." A small pause; another delicate nibble. His expression was not quite readable. "I wonder why that is?"

Leon, of course, had just scowled and told him to "cut the Mystic Meg crap". D had hidden his smile behind a sip of tea.

His reverie was interrupted by a knock at the front door.

He gave a soft sigh, set down his teacup and stood. Really – the door was unlocked and the sign turned to "open". What more invitation could be needed? Still, certain customers were very shy. And what might this one be seeking? His customary polite smile slotted back into place as he opened the door.

"Sign here, please."

D's lips pursed in surprise as a clipboard was thrust at him and the man standing in the doorway nodded down at his feet. There was a large-ish wooden crate on the floor there, and D thought he detected movement through the slats.

A delivery? This was most untoward. He had been expecting no new animals until next week, and surely his grandfather would have informed him of any arrangements he had made. D's pale forehead creased with bewilderment. His job was to provide the surprises, a little mystery, a little spice – to deal out the unexpected, not to receive it. He was not entirely sure he liked this turn of events.

"Sign here, please," the delivery man repeated, more slowly. "You do speak English, right?"

D sniffed, but forced a smile. "I do beg your pardon." He scribbled his signature and stood back, gesturing gracefully into the front room with one hand. "If you'd be so kind…"

He did not open the crate immediately. He waited until the van had driven away, and turned, letting the door fall softly closed behind him. The creak of the hinges seemed oddly loud in the dim room, and it was only then that D noticed the animals had gone quiet. In fact, he realised with a growing sense of unease, most of those that ran loose had disappeared, left the room or hidden behind furniture. Only Tet-chan remained stubbornly in sight, glaring out from under the couch as a low, involuntary growl broke from the back of his throat. The stillness was unnerving, and though the room was still warm D could not stop a shiver.

He took a step towards the container, but something made him stop.

Of course, he decided after a moment, it would be better to prepare a room for the new arrival before letting it out. The sheet of paper the delivery man had flashed at him had said only "reptile", though the soft hiss that had issued from the crate as it was set down suggested some kind of snake. There was a small room near the back of the shop that should suit. And no doubt the creature would need feeding…

D frowned as he went about his tasks, partly in displeasure at the interruption to his hitherto peaceful day, partly in worried curiosity. It was not, of course, that he was unused to coming across new arrivals unexpectedly, or in bizarre situations – but a delivery van appearing on his doorstep quite out of the blue was something else. If his grandfather _had_ arranged for… this… to be sent here, he would hardly have failed to let D know, and animals seeking shelter did not, as a rule, pack themselves into wooden crates and have themselves delivered. So what could this be? The only logical explanation was that somebody else had been behind this. But who? His father? D shook his head to dismiss that thought. The pets' retreat had certainly suggested this creature might be a little… dangerous, but D had yet to come across an animal he could not calm. And besides, sending a deadly animal to the shop was far too sane and logical an idea to be his father's doing. This really was all too strange.

He let out a slow breath. The room was clean, with food and water set out. There was, he supposed, only one thing to do now.

D's eyes fluttered wide open as he removed the lid, and he gasped.

Nothing happened. The creature did not lash out. There was no aggression, no defensive violence – nothing to explain why the other pets in the shop had backed away so quickly. The creature – "snake" somehow didn't seem to do it justice – was, indeed, beautiful. It peered into the half-light for a moment, curious but seemingly unafraid, its head swaying gently from side to side, before slipping out of the crate that had held it. It gave a small hiss, a sound that was softer than the rustle of silk. Its unusual colouring glimmered in the dim room, its black scales laced-through with flecks of gold, and it moved with a sinuous, hypnotic grace that might have tempted Eve, Adam and God as well.

For the moment, however, D was only dimly aware of these things. He was still, save for the merest tremble. His breathing stopped, his expression frozen in place as he gazed at the creature's eyes – one dusk-deep violet, the other palest gold.


	2. Every Day Is All There Is

See Chapter One for warnings, disclaimers and all that other palaver. Thanks again to Mouse, and everybody who's given encouraging reviews and feedback.

^*^

 "No!"

 "But --"

 "Just no! For the last time, Leon Orcot, I am _not_ doing your goddamn paperwork _again_!"

 Leon sighed.

 He wasn't in the mood. Just wasn't. Not, of course, that he ever really was. He knew that he'd already exhausted Jill's patience several times over - and that he probably deserved the withering look she was currently sending in his direction more than he cared to think about - but sitting at a desk in front of this piece-of-shit computer was the last place he wanted to be right now. Chrissakes, he was a cop. He ought to be out catching criminals, not sitting on his backside in an office like some sort of pen-pushing Microserf.

 He glowered at the monitor, but the report stubbornly refused to write itself.

 No, he really wasn't in the mood.

 Come to think of it, his mood sucked - even more than it normally did, that was. Things were just _getting_ to him lately, and he didn't know why. After all, Leon wasn't exactly the type to analyse his feelings. But then he wasn't usually the type whose feelings needed analysing. He got curious, but that kind of figured, and a lot of the time he got angry, but then he shouted or hit things or just sulked for a bit and that made him feel better, and the rest of the time he just got on with his life and didn't give it too much thought. He didn't suffer from depression or introspection or existential angst or whatever the hell it was that was making him feel weird and dislocated and kind of empty, and like there was something indefinable but very, very necessary missing from his shoebox apartment and the routine of work-home-dinner-TV-beer-sleep that he'd been following ever since he became a cop.

 Though if he was being honest, these days it was more often than not work-pet shop-home-dinner -sleep. A couple of times he'd even dozed off sitting on the couch, waking up to find his tea cold and D just looking at him patiently with an expression that was half mirth, half something he couldn't quite fathom. When he saw that Leon was awake he'd get up, clear away the tea things and send him off home with an admonishment to sleep properly and make sure he didn't overwork himself, but he'd be wearing that amused, infuriating little smile that always meant he wasn't _really_ all that concerned. That was okay, though. It meant Leon didn't have to feel guilty about wanting to slap him one for a start.

 He kind of knew that wasn't fair. It was his own embarrassment more than anything, embarrassment being something he found himself suffering pretty chronically around the Count. And D's calm demeanour, the way he could keep his expression perfectly on that narrow line between disdain and amusement while Leon blustered and stammered and turned seven shades of beetroot, irritated the hell out of him. That was it.

 Leon frowned.

 Actually, maybe that _was_ it. Worrying about stuff like this - if he even knew what the hell it was he was worrying about - wasn't _him._ He just didn't do it. Never had. Until he'd met the Count, that was. Half of what he found himself thinking these days sounded like D's precious, philosophical - hippie bullshit. 

 Well, that would be just great. As if stressing him out all day at work wasn't enough, now the guy was fucking with his head as well. He'd probably have a nice little chuckle if he knew just how much, too, Leon reflected morosely. He could imagine it - the eyes widened in innocence, the tone of soft, feigned surprise, the exact degree of smirk. _Goodness, Detective, what _are_ you getting so upset about.?_

 "Leon!"

 He blinked.

 "Leon! Get your head out of the clouds - or your ass, whichever one it is this week - and stop daydreaming!"

 "Wha.. Oh, uh, sorry Jill. What's up?"

 She jerked her head up at the clock. "Well, fascinating as that screensaver may be, your shift's over. You can get off home and stop chewing my ear off about how terrible it is being made to do..." she widened her eyes in mock-horror, "_work_!" Then her lips curved in a little smirk. "Or you can stop by the pet shop and chew D's ear off. Or just nibble, I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

 "Cut it _out_!"

 Leon grabbed his jacket, sent Jill a look that could have soured Ribena, and stomped out the door.

 He was still scowling by the time he'd gotten down the street. Sure, Jill _could_ be a great friend, but she could be a royal pain in the ass at times as well. He sure as hell didn't need any teasing about D right now. And anyway, he wasn't _going_ to go by the pet shop after work today. He didn't exactly relish the thought of being reminded how much D could piss him off - because that was what he was, he decided: pissed off - and besides, he didn't have any reason to, right? Or any sweets, for that matter, and he could just imagine the frosty reception he'd get if he turned up there empty-handed. But that was academic, because he was not, was not, was _not --_

 Oh.

 Leon looked up at the familiar, intricately-carved doorway and gave a sigh. His footsteps seemed to bring him here automatically these days. It was weird, though, now he thought about it. Even when he didn't have a case, he always kind of felt like he was asking D for answers.

 He shook his head. Jesus _fuck,_ that really did sound like something His Highness would come out with. This wasn't even funny any more. 

 Still, he was here now. D, being D, would probably find out in no time if he'd been in Chinatown and not to the shop, and Leon dreaded to think what sort of a hissy-fit he'd throw then. He might as well drop in. Just for a minute.


	3. To Make The Nightmares Go Away

 Apologies for how long this chapter's been in coming – I hope there's _someone_ out there still reading this! See Chapter One for warnings etc.

^*^

"D?"

 No answer.

 Leon cleared his throat. "Count? Something up?"

 Still no response. D's expression was faintly grave, and he appeared to be absorbed in earnest contemplation of the contents of his teacup. He'd been acting like that ever since Leon got here. Hadn't even seemed bothered about the sweets, or lack of, when Leon had been all ready with an excuse – like he was back at school and had forgotten to do his homework or something. Christ. D had just smiled distractedly like he'd barely even registered what was being said to him. It was decidedly weird.

 "COUNT!" Leon yelled, loud enough to have made any normal person fall off his chair with fright. D blinked slowly and raised his eyes.

 "I do beg your pardon, Detective," he said mildly. "Is something the matter?"

 "Huh? You're the one who looks like someone just told you sugar's been declared an illegal substance. What's gotten into your shorts?"

 A slight raise of the eyebrows. Whether in surprise or amusement, or both, Leon couldn't tell.

 "Please do not trouble yourself on my account, Detective. I have a slight headache; that is all." Then D smiled. "However, I do appreciate your concern."

 "Hmph."

 They lapsed back into silence. Leon noticed he'd been fidgeting grumpily with his teaspoon, put it down, and a minute later found himself drumming his fingers on the armrest. D had gone back to staring into his cup, and it didn't look like he was going to let himself be drawn into conversation. 

 The Count not having something to hold forth about was pretty damn unusual, and for some reason – God alone knew – Leon wasn't liking it one bit. For starters, it meant he didn't have anything to shout about, and he was never quite sure how he ought to act around D when he wasn't shouting. Even when he wasn't deliberately trying to make Leon feel two feet tall, the guy just had a way of making him really goddamn _nervous_. Like now. He just kept finding himself… _staring_… and then getting embarrassed about it and looking at the clock, or the floor, or that little bat-rabbit thing that Leon could have sworn was _smirking_ at him – and then glancing back to be sure D hadn't noticed. Fucked if he knew why. It wasn't even like D was paying him any attention, anyway.

 There was something about the guy that drew the eye, though. You had to admit that. It was the outlandish clothes, Leon guessed – or those odd-coloured, scary-but-not-scary eyes, or just the weirdness of seeing a Chinese person with such pale skin. Still, it was easy to get distracted watching him; the play of expressions that simultaneously promised everything and gave away nothing at all; the delicate little movements of those hands as they poured tea, or smoothed imaginary stray hairs back into place. Like an elegant cat, preening itself and knowing all the time just how damn perfect it looks.

 Leon realised he was doing it again, and forced himself, scowling, to look away. At least D hadn't noticed.

 Come to think of it, he realised, he probably should be getting annoyed about that. Here he was, stopping by just to be polite – when he didn't even _like_ the guy – and getting completely ignored. And D was always going on about _his_ manners.

 He snorted loudly. D didn't even look up.

 Maybe he'd just go home. 

 Leon reached for his jacket, clearing his throat as he did so. 

 "Ah… I think I'm gonna get off home now. Early mornings, ya know…"

 A small pause. Then D seemed to realise he was being spoken to, and glanced up. 

 "Very well, Detective. Have a pleasant evening." A polite smile. D made no move to get up.

 That was weird too, Leon thought. D usually saw him to the door, right? Either because he was Mr. Manners, or because he wanted to make sure Leon was out of the way and not keeping an eye on the shop. Well, whichever, it was odd.

 Leon opened his mouth, about to say something, then realised that D was oblivious again, his forehead creased in a preoccupied little frown that made Leon want to snatch that teacup out of his hand and –

 No, he couldn't be bothered to yell or… or… anything. Like it made any difference to him that the weirdest weird person in Chinatown was acting a bit weirder than usual today. He just wanted to go home, that was it. Yeah.

 He cast one more glance at the still-absorbed D, then slung on his jacket and stomped out.

 By the time he'd gotten back to his apartment, Leon had managed – if it was at all possible – to work himself up into an even worse mood than before. He was good at that. He barged into the apartment, slammed the door shut as if it had personally injured him just by standing there, being a door, and flung himself into an armchair.

 After a minute, he realised he'd thrown his jacket on the floor as he walked in. He thought, in an abstract kind of a way, that he ought to go pick it up.

 Then he frowned. Why the hell _should_ he pick it up? It was his goddamn apartment. He'd leave his stuff on the floor if he wanted.

 Leon reached for the TV remote, and turned up the volume.

^*^

 D had been rather glad when it was finally late enough to retire for the night. He had been troubled all day, and even a visit from his favourite officer of the law had been no help in distracting him. He supposed, on reflection, that he must have been a little distant with Leon – the detective had seemed even more grouchy than usual today, and his expression as he took his leave had been distinctly Not Happy. D did not trouble himself unduly, however. He was quite used to Leon's moods, and quite sure he would have found something else to sulk about by morning,

 And besides, there were rather more pressing issues at hand. 

 The new arrival's unknown origin was only one of the things that had been weighing on his mind. Animals, as a rule, showed D their true forms without hesitation, sensing that it would be as useless to distrust him as the ground beneath their feet. If anything, they seemed to grow brighter under his gaze, vying for his attention like children around a favourite teacher.

 He had looked in on the new creature several times during the day, but seen nothing.

 He had told himself that, no doubt, the creature was still distressed from its journey, and that once it had settled in everything would be as normal – in short, that there was nothing to worry about. It _bothered_ him, though, on some faint, not-quite-definable level, and, try as he might, he had been unable to shake off the vague sense of disquietude that had settled over the shop that morning.

 Before going to bed, he had peered around the door of the little room a final time. Still, nothing seemed out of order. It was quite as he had left it, still and dim – and glimmering in a corner, seemingly asleep, the coils of a black-gold serpent.

 D had strange dreams that night, stark and coolly vivid, but unsettling in an odd, nebulous sort of way that he could not quite explain. 

 He found himself in a clearing, in dark woodland, sitting at his grandfather's feet as he had done as a child. The air was soft on his face, but a stern full moon gave the whole scene the sharp, unreal quality of a charcoal sketch. It half-reminded him of times in his youth when Sofu had taken him to forests, or to lakes or plains or the side of the sea, and taught him about the animals and plants, their names and how to speak with them – and yet he felt a little disoriented, something not-quite-right. 

 D thought he heard leaves rustle, but then he realised there was no breeze. He glanced around him for the source of the sound, but saw nothing.

 And then Sofu leaned down towards him, apropos of nothing, his expression severe.

 "You are too fond of that human," he said, darkly.

 D blinked in alarm. He had not even been thinking about Leon. What could his grandfather mean by such a thing? 

 And then he heard it again, that noise like wind in trees -- and something else quite distinct from it; a soft hiss, an almost-tender caress of sound. It was not quite a breath, not quite a laugh – something just on the verge of expression. D could not tell where it was coming from.

 He looked up, bewildered, but Sofu had disappeared, and the rustling of leaves was all around him.

 "Kyu?"

 D opened his eyes, but it was a moment before they adjusted to his surroundings. Q-chan was hovering anxiously over him. 

 "Kyu?"

 He sat up, and tried to smile. The room felt uncomfortably warm.

 "Kyu? Kyu!" The chittering creature lighted on D's shoulder and he petted it absently, murmuring reassurances. Something was still nagging at him, though, and the air tasted hot and dry. 

 A moment later he was on his feet, down the corridor and opening the door of that room again. He was not entirely sure why he was doing it, or why his heart was suddenly in his throat, or why, despite the heat, he was shivering a little. There was no light in the room, and D had to strain his eyes to make out anything at all.

 Through the thick dark, a pair of mismatched eyes gleamed at him with a smile in them.


	4. Double Double

See Chapter One for warnings, disclaimers and all that other palaver. Thanks again to Mouse, and everybody who's given encouraging reviews and feedback.

^*^

 D's family had had little use for books. He appreciated literature, himself – the intricacies of language, the fancies of the imagination, the piquant irony of noble sentiments espoused by authors who had been far, far too human to live by them – but his father had been contemptuous, and Sofu had warned him sternly against giving too much time to the trifles of human culture. And of course, there was little to be learned that they did not already know. 

 This in mind, D had always thought that the few shelves of dusty volumes his grandfather kept in the shop were more for ambience than anything else. Mystery was important, of course, and the weight of the books, the dull jewel colours of their spines -- and perhaps the glimpse of a title in some unfamiliar language -- surely did a little to help keep the customer in awe as he passed. They dealt with legends, mostly, and the beasts of mythology -- stories that had been familiar to D since childhood -- and it had been decades, perhaps centuries, since he had last thought to look at them. Now, however, he supposed it was possible they might have something to tell him about this puzzling new creature. Unlikely, but possible. And it surely could not hurt to try. It would, at least, give him something with which to occupy himself until dawn, since -- he was certain -- there would be no further sleep for him tonight.

 He shuddered delicately as he recalled that unpleasant dream, and the irrational -- _foolish_, he thought, firmly -- panic that he had allowed to overtake him afterwards. He had half felt he was still dreaming when he had seen those eyes shining at him, their hard, gem-like familiarity, and he had frozen, heart caught dizzily mid-skip, in the doorway. Then he had found himself stumbling backwards -- one unsure step, then another -- until he ran into the corridor wall, and slumped against it gratefully. The brickwork had been cool. He had closed his eyes, waited for his breathing to slow, his heart to resume its usual, regular cadence. And then --

 And then, nothing happened. He opened his eyes, the world swam gradually into focus, the whispering shadows and swirling noises of that nightmare woodland receding as it did so. And he was quite unharmed, quite alone in this part of the shop save for a chirping Q-chan and an ordinary, if rather bemused-looking, snake.

 D had scolded himself crossly over that. He had allowed himself to become confused, his judgement clouded -- even if only for a moment. Perhaps he _was_ spending too much time around Detective Orcot. 

 Still, he had checked the door of the new arrival's room twice to be sure it was secure before adjourning to the tea-room. The air there had been cool, a welcome caress, and he had breathed of it thankfully. He had allowed himself a few moments to calm down -- and then his thoughts had turned to the rarely-touched bookshelf at the back of the shop.

 It _would_ be interesting to look through them, he decided, even if they gave him no insight into what this animal was. They would give him something to think about until morning, and might help keep his mind off all of those… other things.

 And of course, he thought, with a hint more satisfaction, there was one other he could turn to, one companion that had never let him down, had never failed to be there for him in a time of crisis: sweet, sweet tea.

^*^

 The clock chimed six; the door slid closed behind the final customer of the day. It had been a fairly typical case -- a quiet, nervous young man, a girlfriend killed in a traffic accident. He had seemed harmless enough. D did hope he would keep to the contract. 

 He allowed himself to be distracted a moment, to remember the look of wonder that had flitted across the customer's face as he had looked into his new pet's eyes and seen whatever it was that humans saw in the eyes of their companions. Always the eyes -- that was where recognition lay. Odd, how much one saw, sometimes.

 D blinked to clear his head, and decided it was high time for another pot of tea. No doubt Detective Orcot would be along shortly. He should try to be a little less distant today, he thought. After all, he did not wish to upset his human… friend. Yes, he could call Leon a friend, he supposed -- at least, as much as he could any human being. 

  _You are too fond of that human_.

 He suppressed a shiver at the memory of Sofu's dreamed words, and forced himself to think about it no further. It had been a dream, no more, and dreams were for his customers. To allow himself to become caught up in them -- that would be foolish. He had far more real concerns, besides.

 As he had expected, there had been nothing of use to him on his grandfather's bookshelves. However, looking through them had been a fairly interesting diversion, and had passed the grey hours until dawn pleasantly enough. He had not looked in on the new creature since. There had been one story that had particularly fascinated him, though -- a sad little tale, in one of the smaller volumes, with an illustration in delicate greens and golds. It told of a young man -- place, century and all those other details went unspecified, but then that was always the case with fairy tales -- who chanced upon a group of woodland spirits (one of the many names by which D's kind had been called over the centuries) while out hunting one day. One of the group saw him, came over and spoke, and even allowed him to sit by her side for a while, watching the foxes curl up at her feet and casting sidelong glances at her face and her odd, purple eyes. He became infatuated, of course. It was not long before he went mad. He announced to his family that he had found a wife, and was going to live with her in the woods, and promptly disappeared. Villagers saw him, occasionally, after that, wandering the edges of the forest, ragged and always accompanied not by a woman, but a fox with eyes of the most unnatural violet. One villager approached him, and he introduced the creature as his bride. It was not long before he died, and his body was found beside that of his pet. No doubt afterwards the story had become a cautionary tale, told to youths to warn them from venturing too far into the green-shadowed dark.

 It had a brought a sad little smile to D's face -- and then a slight, puzzled frown. He had never heard of an animal taking the form of one of his kind. But then he supposed it was not impossible -- creatures like those he sold only reflected what their humans wished to see, after all. And the kami would often resort to trickery when an ardent human admirer ceased being amusing and became a nuisance. He had… associated with humans himself, when he was very young, and had never hesitated at cruelty when their attentions became annoying. 

 Of course, the idea of a fox with bright purple eyes -- well, he had made the connection with the… creature currently curled in the back of his shop at once, and dismissed it as quickly. This was a story -- merely the poetic exaggeration to which human beings, so blind to the world around them, were always so inclined. And besides, he dealt with the inhabitants of Los Angeles, a modern city. Their desires always lay in other humans, were nearly always so simple, so _obvious_, as to be mundane. There was no-one here that could be looking for --

 The door swung open, admitting a glare of sunlight and interrupting D's train of thought. Glad of the distraction, he glanced up.

 "Ah. Good evening, Detective."


	5. Grievous Light

 See Chapter One for warnings, disclaimers, thanks and failed authorial attempts to be funny.

^*^

 "Uh, hey D. How's business?"

 "I… cannot complain, thank you, Detective." D smiled faintly, then brightened as Leon set down a small, prettily-wrapped package on the table and plonked himself on the couch. "Ah -- confectionary? And from -- ?" One hand flew to his mouth as he caught sight of the label, which was an expensive one. Very. "Why, you spoil me!"

 Leon felt sure he ought to be able to think of some sarcastic comment to the effect that D did a pretty good job of spoiling him_self,_ and a pricey box of candy was hardly gonna make much difference, but his wits had deserted him as usual. He wasn't entirely sure what had possessed him to go to one of the most expensive candy stores (was that what you called them? Leon guessed there was probably some sort of fancy French name or something for the posh ones D shopped at, but hell, if it sold candy it was a candy store) in this part of town, beyond the fact that he'd felt weirdly, inexplicably guilty about walking out in a huff yesterday afternoon. It wasn't even like D had noticed, but he'd just felt bad. Like he'd felt bad this morning when he'd been about to set off for work and found his jacket lying in a crumpled heap by the door, on top of a cigarette packet and a mug with some sort of slimy, greenish substance that he hadn't looked at too closely in the bottom. He wasn't sure why. It wasn't like there was anyone else in the apartment to complain about it. He'd just felt kind of like he used to when he was a kid and he broke something or got ketchup on the carpet, stuff like that, but managed to hide the evidence before his mom got home. She'd never yell at him -- probably didn't even notice -- but he'd bug himself about it for hours anyway. 

 After that he'd shaken himself, decided hanging around D was obviously getting to him more than he'd realised, and slammed out the door.

 D had finally managed to tear his eyes away from the box of candy, and was busy cutting a fussily-decorated little cake into slices that were way too small for human handling. Leon hated that. It always made him get crumbs everywhere, and then D tutted at him like it was _his_ fault. D was smiling to himself, though, and even humming a little under his breath, looking a lot perkier than yesterday. It didn't seem like he was in a mood. Still, it couldn't hurt to check, right?

 "Ah… D?"

 D glanced up mildly. "Mmm?"

 "Well, uh -- sorry if I was rude or anything yesterday. Going off like that. If I, you know, pi… annoyed you or… something."

 D's eyebrows shot up. Jesus -- Leon apologising for being rude wasn't _that_ big of a deal, was it? He was half-expecting a snitty comment pointing out that yes, in fact, around here it was only slightly less unusual than somebody getting attacked by a pack of carnivorous rabbits, but for once all D did was blink, pause for a second and then murmur: "Not at all, Detective."

 "Okay. Well. Ah. Good. Can't go making the department look bad or anything, you know."

 The small glimmer of amusement that that earned stayed for just a second, and then was replaced by something Leon couldn't quite put his finger on.

 "In fact," D was saying, "Perhaps it is I who should… apologise for my manners. I was a little distracted yesterday evening. I do hope you were not -- offended?"

 "Huh? Oh, no. Yeah, ah, no."

 D sparkled at him over the rim of his teacup. "Oh, I am glad. I had rather thought that you were."

 "No, no. No. Didn't even notice."

 "Good." D smiled sweetly. "Tea?"

^*^

 That, at least, had been a small mercy. D was quite sure Leon _had_ been bothered, but it appeared he was not prepared to admit it. Since that meant he wasn't going to sulk, either, D honestly could not object. Sometimes, he reflected, the detective's unrivalled capacity for denying the obvious was really quite useful.

 Leon, right at this moment, was slumped forward in his seat, elbows on knees, head in hands, frowning to himself. He reached for his cup, swallowed a mouthful of tea and set it back down on the saucer. There was a loud clink as delicate china connected with delicate china, and D winced inwardly.

 "Distracted?"

 D blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

 "You said you were distracted. Something up?"

 D's eyebrows raised a fraction, his lips parting in faint surprise. This was a little… unexpected. Leon had certainly never hesitated to accuse him of smuggling, or drug-dealing, or whatever the police department was focusing on in any given week, but asking what was on his mind was altogether a different matter. He had never quite expected Leon to find the nerve. Most interesting.

 All he did, however, was smile politely and reply. "Just a trifle, Detective. Nothing for you to concern yourself with."

 Leon looked dissatisfied, and D thought he might have been about to pursue the matter when the telephone rang. Leon shot it an irritated look, and D pursed his lips. He had never been fond of telephones, though he supposed that for human beings they were a necessary evil. But they were so noisy, and always rang while one was busy -- and communication, when one could not read the expression of the person one was talking to, could surely only ever be false. Cellphones he understood even less. Humans were social creatures, yes, but the bizarre need to be constantly at the beck and call of a bleeping piece of machinery beggared belief. It was another little part of the human tragicomedy, he supposed -- all attached constantly to various pieces of communication technology, flashing lights and ringing noises and computer screens, and none of them ever quite listening to anything.

 D let the phone ring twice, three times, before moving to pick it up.

 "Good evening," he began. "This is Count D's pet shop. May I help you?"

 "Uh, hey, Count. Is Leon there?"

 "I beg your pardon? That is, yes, he is, but… who is this?"

 Leon glanced up from the piece of cake he'd been eating -- trying and failing as always, D noted, not to get crumbs all over the carpet -- and looked over at him, a questioning frown on his face. D held up a hand to shush him.

 "Oh, sorry, yeah. It's Jill. From the P. D. You've met me before… I just figured he'd be at your place."

 "Ah, of course. Do pardon my manners." D let his tone brighten, his eyes widening with mild surprise. "I shall put him on the line at once." He held the receiver out towards Leon. "It is for you, Detective."

 "Huh?"

 "For you," D repeated patiently.

 Leon said nothing more, but took the receiver and gave it a suspicious look before putting it to his ear. 

 "Hello?" he said cautiously. "Jill? Why the hell are you calling the pet shop? I've always got my cellphone on -- Yeah, okay, I'm here but that's not the point -- Anyway -- Oh." Leon's face fell. "Shit. I'm sorry, Jill. Really sorry." A short pause And then; "Yeah, yeah, sure. I'll be right over."

 He hung up the phone. D had been watching Leon's expression discreetly from behind his hair, and now he gave him an enquiring glance.

 "Shit." Leon said again. "Sorry. I mean -- ah, shit."

 D raised his eyebrows.

 "Jill. Her grandfather died. Not like it's a big surprise -- guy must have been in his eighties -- but she just found out and, well, I said I'd go keep her company for a while."

 "Of course," D nodded. "I would not dream of keeping you. Please, do give Miss Jill my best wishes."

 "Yeah, yeah. Sure." And then Leon had grabbed his jacket and gone.

 Glancing after him, D could not help the tiniest flicker of amusement at the idea of Leon playing the agony uncle. It was only the thought that that nice, polite Miss Jill had lost somebody close to her that kept him from smiling. After all, it was difficult to imagine his dear detective attempting to be reassuring. Still, he was prepared to try, and that was surely something. The loyalty some human beings held for one another -- well, it was admirable, in a way. D could not remember ever having experienced such a thing himself. Oh course, he had had the loyalty of his pets, and of those human beings who worshipped and revered him, drawn to his grace, his knowledge, his power – but the affection of an equal, somebody drawn simply to who he was (whatever that might mean)? Well, no. That was not the way of his kind. This loyalty, this emotion, was for humans -- blind, foolish creatures that they were. And yet occasionally -- just occasionally -- it looked like such a beautiful thing.

^*^

"So, what _were_ you doing at the pet shop this time, anyway?"

"Jill…" Leon rolled his eyes, but inwardly he was kind of glad. Jill had seemed really down when he got here -- understandably, he guessed -- but she'd perked up a little now. That was a blessing. Leon wasn't exactly good at doing the 'comforting friend' thing, especially when it involved talking about stuff. He could never think of anything to say that didn't sound fake, or patronising, or just really, really dumb, and that always made him feel bad. He wasn't that good at doing the cheering-up thing either normally, seeing as he wasn't exactly Little Miss Sunshine himself most of the time. But Jill was smiling now, even though she looked tired and her eyes were still a little red, and she was giving him that sideways look that always meant he wasn't going to get out of being mocked _that_ lightly.

"Aw, c'mon. And don't try and tell me you were investigating the Mysterious Case of the Murdering Marmoset or any of that crap, either."

"Jesus _fuck_, Jill! Can't I even go for a cup of tea without you making out it's something… I dunno, gay?!"

 Jill raised her eyebrows. "Hey, _I_ never made out it was _any_thing! Still, you know what they say -- it's the mind it goes into…" She ducked out of the way just in time to avoid a flying armchair cushion, smirking now. "And anyway, since when do you drink tea?"

"Jill…" Leon glanced round for a distraction, caught sight of the clock and seized on it thankfully. "It's nearly nine. Didn't you say you had to call your grandmother?"

 Any other time, that would have been the cue for a comment or five about changing the subject and denial. As it was, Jill's smile faded. 

"Oh, yeah. Shit." She sighed. "I just… hope she's gonna be okay in that house by herself, y'know? Must be lonely as hell." A little pause. "She's got the cats though."

"Huh?"

"Yeah. Three of them. They had them from kittens -- they must be pretty old themselves by now…" She stopped just as Leon felt his expression start to glaze over. "Sorry. I'm rambling."

Leon started to protest, but Jill cut him off again. "No, really, I was rambling. You were doing your I'm-not-listening-but-I-don't-wanna-complain-in-case-you-get-pissed-off face."

 "Was not!"

 "Were too. Don't tell me you're really interested in hearing about my grandma's cats."

 Leon guessed he had to concede that one. "O_kay_, okay. You were rambling."

 Jill didn't rise to that. In fact, it looked like she'd stopped paying attention altogether, looking intently at the wall. Then she turned her gaze back to Leon.

 "You ought to get a pet, you know."

 Leon blinked at the sudden change of tack. "What?"

 "You should get a pet."

 "Huh? Why?"

 "You just should. It'd be good for you. I don't know how you manage living on your own like that. I'd be climbing the walls in a week."

 Privately, Leon thought going crazy would probably be slightly more bearable than living with most of Jill's roommates. She had a point, though. It did feel kind of… weird going home to an empty apartment sometimes, and he found himself thinking about it more than usual these days. He wasn't sure why. It had never bothered him that much before. He shrugged. "I dunno. I guess."

 "Plus it might make your apartment smell a bit nicer…"

 "Hey!"

 "Okay, okay. Probably nothing could make that place smell better. But seriously, you ought to think about it." And then Jill's eyes were glinting at him wickedly. "Hey, I bet the Count would even find you one for free if you asked him right…"

 "_Jill_ -- "

 For a moment, it looked as though Jill wasn't going to let it drop. Again. Then her face fell, and she glanced over at the phone. "Ah, anyway. I really ought to go ring my grandma."

 "Yeah, it's getting late. I probably oughta go, anyway."

 "Guess so." Jill smiled again, wearily this time. "Thanks for coming round, Leon. Careful going home." A slight pause, and then another little sparkle of amusement. "If home _is_ where you're going."

^*^

 Leon _had_ found himself thinking about it, after. The pet thing, that was, not any of the other comments Jill had made -- God knew he should be used to those by now. He couldn't really see how it would work -- he wasn't a cat person and he sure as hell didn't have time to look after a dog, and goldfish had always seemed like pretty useless pets to him anyway -- but maybe it was an idea. Maybe he could ask D for some advice.

 Come to think of it, that was probably why he found himself at the pet shop so often these days. It was just to have someone to talk to, something to do that wasn't watching TV or drinking beer. Being on your own did suck sometimes, he had to admit. Yeah, he had friends, but he couldn't hang out with Jill or the guys from the P. D. _every_ night, and it didn't look like he was ever going to manage to get a girlfriend who lasted longer than a week. He'd pretty much given up even trying lately, in fact. But yeah. D was better company than no-one at all, he guessed, however much of a pain in the ass he could be at times. Hell, maybe he _should_ even ask D to sell him a pet.

 Leon shook his head. Jesus, now that _was_ crazy. He'd seen what those things did to people --

 But then D only sold those animals -- the freaky, man-eating ones -- to some people, anyway. Weird people. Sad people. Fuck-ups. Not that that was any excuse, but he had plenty of normal animals too, didn't he? Well, some. And he liked Leon or at least Leon kind of thought he did. He didn't see why else D would put up with him going round to the shop and grumbling about his day pretty much every evening. And you didn't visit people in the hospital, or give them houseplants, or feed them for free all the time if you hated their guts, did you? Nah, D wouldn't try to bump him off, even if he had every reason to. Leon wasn't sure why he was so certain of that, but… no -- he wouldn't. D was --

 Thinking about D and the pet shop, Leon realised as he finally registered his surroundings, seemed to be fatal. He couldn't believe he'd ended up here _again_.

^*^

 D could not say he was entirely surprised that the detective had come back, despite the lateness of the hour. Leon's inability to stay away from the shop for any substantial period of time would normally have afforded D a small, gratified glow of amusement. The pull his little world exerted over the human seemed to grow stronger every day. Today, however, Sofu's eyes from that dream gleamed sternly in his mind's eye, and the words _You are too fond of that human_ seemed to hang in the air, a whispering echo just beyond hearing.

 "Hello again, Detective," he began, raising his eyebrows in an approximation of mild surprise. "And what brings you here at this time? Surely it must be almost ten."

 Leon frowned and ran a hand through his hair, and for a moment it looked very much as though he were trying to think of an excuse. "I, uh, thought you might wanna know how Jill was," he said, after a few seconds' pause. Judging by the visible grimace that crossed his face as he said it, that must have sounded rather weak even to Leon's own ears.

 D chose not to comment, however. He merely smiled, murmured, "But of course," and stepped back to let Leon into the shop.

 It was then that he felt the air change.

 It was barely detectable at first -- a thickening of the atmosphere, the tiniest rise in temperature, and a deepening of the quiet into silence as the background murmur of animal noises faded, and finally ceased altogether. And then D felt something else, and an icy little shiver started at the back of his neck and scuttled all the way down his spine.

 Somewhere, beneath the usual energies of the pet shop and its inhabitants, there was a presence D did not recognise. It was weaker than his own, but more potent than that of any of the animals, and strangely unidentifiable -- fluid and shadowy and pervasive. The darkness itself seemed to be intensifying, growing heavier -- and then D did not know whether to trust his eyes, because he saw it begin to stir. The darkness in the corners of the room looked almost solid now, and before his eyes, sinuous, curling shapes began to form. The movement was directionless at first. Shifting tendrils of shadow hovered indecisively in the corners of the room, wavered -- and then, as though suddenly catching sight of prey, started to drift slowly inward.

 Leon, it appeared, had noticed nothing. He was still talking -- something about Jill's roommates and how the hell could she put up with them watching _Sex and the City_ all the time -- and his eyes were fixed on D. He looked neither up nor down as a swirl darkness closed in on him, curling round his legs like a vine, a strand of it snaking through his hair. D stared in frozen, incredulous horror.

 "Count? You okay?"

 D blinked, realising he must have stopped smiling and nodding -- and then the vision was gone, the black shapes vanished, the shop lit, dimly but clearly, by the usual soft red glow. For a moment, relief swept over him. He had been imagining things, that was all -- his tired eyes and the lateness of the hour playing tricks on him. But that strange, wary prickling at the back of his mind was still there, and he still could not speak. He was seized with a sudden desire to reach out to the human, touch him, grasp his arm, _something_, just to be certain he really was still there.

 "Something up?"

 He summoned a smile, at last. "No, not at all, Detective. I beg your pardon. You were saying?"

 "Oh, yeah. Jill seems to have gotten it into her head that I need a pet." Leon rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, frowning slightly. "It does get kinda boring living on your own sometimes. I dunno -- what do you think?"

 D's heart caught in his throat. For some reason, that sounded very much like a cue.

 His eyes went wide. And then things were slotting together, suddenly -- the strange creature, that bizarre story from the old book, the dire words from his dream. It was not perfect sense, it was not all quite clear, but it was enough to form the start of a picture he did not like in the slightest. He suddenly had little doubt as to why the snake had not revealed its real form to him, or what that form might be.

 "Go," he whispered. "Go home."

 Leon blinked. "What?"

 "You must leave now, Detective."

 "Huh? What's up? What'd I do?"

 "Nothing, Detective." And now D was taking his arm, practically bundling him out through the door -- sure, if he could be sure of anything, that he had to get Leon out of the shop, and _now_. "I am a little unwell, that is all."

 Leon was still looking at him in obvious bewilderment. "Was it something I said?"

 "Please do not worry, Detective. Good night." And with a last, little push, Leon was out on the sidewalk, and the door closed. For a moment, D leaned against it, his eyes drifting shut, head spinning from the last few minutes and their sudden, awful clarity.

 But it was obvious, in hindsight, so obvious. Of course Leon did not want a pet. That was only an idea Miss Jill had put into his head, and he would doubtless have changed his mind again by tomorrow. No. People did not go visiting at ten o'clock in the evening because they suddenly wanted to buy puppies. Of course, D had entertained the possibility -- the certainty, if he were to be honest about it -- that the reason Leon came to the shop so often was for his company, even if the detective did not know it himself, but he had not thought about it on any serious level until recently. Human beings were not to be taken seriously, after all. They were trivial, petty creatures -- and so often fickle. What they wanted one day was forgotten the next.

 But still, the creatures that came to D's shop represented only a human's deepest desires, his greatest needs. Could it really mean -- ?

 And then there was the matter of what he had just done. Never before had D failed to do his duty, hand out the contract, follow the script. He realised he had no idea what the consequences of doing so might be, aside from the certainty that they would not be pleasant. Were his grandfather here, he would surely be most displeased.

 At that thought, D had to suppress another shiver. The room was still warm, though, he noticed -- suffocatingly so -- and quiet. The animals had gone silent before, but now, glancing round, D realised that none were visible. Even Tet-chan appeared to have gone into hiding, and Q-chan was nowhere to be seen.

 A cold, heavy feeling started to form inside his chest. He took a cautious step forward, then another, casting around again for a sign of any one of his pets. Nothing. He was quite alone in the room, save for his own breathing -- and the awareness, again, of that not-quite-alien presence somewhere in the shop.

 Whatever was about to happen, it appeared there would be no avoiding it now.

 D reached the couch. He sat down, and folded his hands, and waited for the storm.

^*^

 Spread a little sunshine – R&R.


	6. Tenderness

 See Chapter One for blah blah blah blah.

^*^

When it came it was laughter. It issued from somewhere D could neither see nor place, not quite behind him, but out of liquid shadow, sweet and low and the sickening echo of his own – although, right at this moment, he was far from laughing. The air felt heavy on his face.

 D sat facing the door through which Leon had left, not the one into the back of the shop, and sensed no movement in the darkness, but he became suddenly aware that he was no longer alone in the room. And then beneath the bubbling laughter there came another sound, a sound that was barely real, at first. It crept gradually into hearing, surrounding him, soft and insinuating. A sound like the rustling of leaves.

 He did not blink. A second, perhaps two, passed and felt slower than drowning.

 Abruptly, the rustling noise, and the laughter, stopped.

 "Well, well, well. And when did you become one of the great humanists?"

 It was not the fact that the voice sounded so much like D's own that made him struggle to hold back a shiver; he had been expecting that, in part. It was more the mild, amused quietness of it, its plainness. He could simply have been talking to himself. This room, with its incense-thick air and heavy draperies, kept sounds muffled, subdued. It was relaxing, generally. D enjoyed quiet. Just now, though, for some reason, he had found himself expecting echoes.

 The rustling noise, again. D realised it sounded a little like the swish of silk that accompanied his own movements when he was wearing a particularly heavy cheongsam. And then something that could have been footsteps.

 "What? Cat got your tongue?"

 D closed his eyes. His folded hands tightened around one another, and he exhaled slowly. This, it appeared, was going to be difficult.

 It was not only the voice itself that sounded like his own, but the words, the teasing tone -- the very things that meant  others often found D, and all his kind, so impossible to deal with. Whatever this creature was, it had learned its part well. The thought, and the inevitable question that followed it -- from whom? -- did nothing to dispel the cold feeling in his chest.

 It was another moment before D found his voice. He himself often reacted to directness with amusement. It always seemed so indelicate, so blundering, spoke so clearly of human clumsiness. On the other hand, playing along with the verbal games of his kind, and those like them, was always folly. Perhaps being forthright would be the best policy. Assuming, of course, that there was going to be any best policy.

 He took another deep breath. "What are you?" he asked evenly.

 Predictably, the question was answered with another soft laugh.

 "Why don't you take a look?" the voice suggested. "I'm just behind you."

 "I… do not think that will be necessary." For a moment, D almost found himself smiling. "Thank you." And then he allowed the grim edge to return to his voice. "I am sure you know quite well what I mean."

 "Mmm." The syllable held neither agreement nor dissent; it hung equivocally in the dark for a second before the smoky air swallowed it.

 Footsteps again. It sounded as though the… creature… was -- not exactly pacing; the steps were too measured, not quick enough for that -- but strolling around the room calmly, unhurriedly. Rather as though it were at home.

 For a good few moments, there was no reply, just the sound of those slow footfalls crossing from one side of the room to the other, and back, and then back again. They stopped, at last, at the table where D kept his photographs. There was the sound of one being picked up.

 "Your grandfather, I suppose?"

 "Yes." There was no need to look for D to know which picture that was – the same one Leon had commented on before, no doubt. This time, he found himself gritting his teeth at the evasive turn of conversation, the light, mocking tone that was all too familiar and, he could not help but suspect, all too accurate. Goodness. He _did_ hope he was not really this irritating.

 "Ah, but of course. You're all most alike."

 At that, D went still. The cool dread he had felt lodged inside his chest began to spread, a slow shiver crawling out over his skin in a barely-felt, chill caress. Goosebumps started to form on the back of his neck.

 "All?" he enquired steadily, at last, fingernails digging into his hands with the effort it took to keep the edge -- and the slight tremble -- out of his voice.

 "Well, of course." There was a short pause, and D did not need to see the amused raise of eyebrows. "Exactly where else would I have come from?"

 A slow sigh escaped him. D had dismissed the idea of this creature's being something to do with his father, at first; it had seemed too simple, he supposed, too ridiculously obvious. Even now, having heard it, he couldn't say it was entirely surprising. Only -- and this was the bewildering thing, the thing that really made the warm air feel cold -- what could his father have wanted with _Leon_?

 "He _is_ rather handsome."

 D started. It was almost as though the creature had read his mind. The notion, of course, was ridiculous, but his unease heightened a little anyway.

 "I must say, I _was_ disappointed that you didn't let me have him," it went on. There was another pause that felt like a smile. "You know, I really would have been the easy way out…"

 The creature let the sentence hang, and again, D felt the breath catch in his throat. His shoulders, his hands, his whole body tensed, and there was a sharp little stinging sensation on the back of his hands. He opened his eyes, looked down, and realised that his nails had broken the skin there. Tiny beads of black-red blood pooled in one of the little crescent-shaped dents. He stared at it for a second, as though doing so might somehow lessen the nightmarish strangeness of the situation. At least he could be certain that that was real.

 Because this, surely, could not be. The creature had sounded so knowing, so certain – as though there were a revelation on the way. D did not take kindly to revelations. He had experienced few of them in his life, presumably because there was little he did not already know, but when they came they were rarely pleasant.

 It was worse, of course, for humans. He had seen it so many times. It was often worst of all when the revelation was not really a revelation at all, but something that they already knew, and could simply ignore no longer, however much they wished to.

 D realised that he was feeling faintly nauseated.

 When he found his voice again, it was frosty. "I do beg your pardon," he said, "I am not entirely sure I take your meaning. The easy way out… of what?"

 A low, liquid chuckle. "Oh, _please._ Look at you. Valuing human life all of a sudden? Doing the right thing? Protecting _him_?" Another laugh, and this time D could have sworn it was almost a snigger. "But you didn't do it because it was the right thing, did you?" And then the creature's tone changed. "It's a pity, really." What sounded like a shrug. "I suppose I shall die now. But then -- " The voice rose a sardonic notch. " -- I suppose that's what one gets for standing in the way of true love." 

 D's mouth fell open, but this time it mattered little that the creature interrupted him before he could speak, since he was lost for words anyway.

 "And I _do_ hope you're not going to beg my pardon for that one." 

 Foosteps. He felt the creature move nearer, the swish of silk so close he could almost feel its softness.

 "He does, you know." The words could have been spoken at his shoulder, and D started at the nearness of the sound even as he remembered he should have been expecting it. "Even if he doesn't know it yet." The voice dropped a note, grew rich and soft as the incense-thick air. Its tone was conspiratorial, its intimacy chilling. "Love you, that is."

 The words dropped into the warm air clearly as raindrops, and D felt quite suddenly that he had looked down to find the earth stolen from beneath his feet.

 He heard a short, harsh gasp, and it was a second before he realised that it had come from his own mouth. It had not sounded like him at all. And the creature's voice did not relent.

 "Well, that's why he created me, of course. Your… dear father. I took rather a lot of work, apparently. You've no idea how many experiments went wrong before I turned out right. And now you've gone and spoiled it, anyway. You were supposed to give me to _him_. Or him to me, whichever way you want to put it. And then that human and his little infatuation would have been gone, finished with. Out of your way." The voice stopped for a second, a little hesitation that sounded just perfectly rehearsed. "At least, that was all your father said to me. Although if half of what he said about you was true, I've really no idea why he'd want to… help you."

 The thought had occurred to D already, of course, and the certainty that, whatever his father had wished to do, it was not to help him was quick to follow. But this was nothing to that other little piece of news, if news it were. _He does, you know... Love you, that is._ For how could this be true? And how, if it were, could this… creature… presume to know?

"Well, _he_ could see it, you know," the voice murmured in his ear. "And I must admit, it _is_ rather obvious. You haven't denied it yet, either."

 Knowing, now, where it had come from, D was certain the creature could not know what he was thinking. It would have been told what to say; his father must, he thought grimly, be rather more able to predict him than he had realised. The chill he had first felt at having his thoughts answered did not fade, however. He supposed this must be how Leon felt, sometimes.

 "But anyway, well done." The sarcasm dripped like honey. Rather unsubtle, D could not help noting, frozen still as he was. Not that his father had ever been much of a one for subtlety. "You've saved your human. Maybe now you'll get to live happily ever after… or, well, as long as he manages to stick around, throwing himself in front of bullets all the time like that."

 D shuddered, and his eyes drifted closed again. He must stop this.

"No more," he commanded, and was vaguely surprised at the anguished crack of his voice. The creature laughed.

 "I suppose that's why you haven't admitted it, isn't it? You know it's folly, falling for… mortals. Even if he ever _does_ manage to get over that all-American college-boy pride and admit he loves you, you'll have him for -- what? half a minute? -- in your lifetime. And then eternity without him. It seems like a rather harsh deal to me." Its breath was warm as summer wind on the back of his neck. It smelled sweet, like the blanketing incense, like the pet shop, like _him_. D kept his eyes closed. He was not sure he could bear to open them. "But who knows? Maybe it is better to have loved and lost. _I_ wouldn't want to find out, but…" The voice dropped lower, grew richer, and the sound whispered against his skin. "Well, you love him too, don't you?"

 D opened his mouth to deny it, and the words stuck in his throat. Could he deny it? Could he deny any of it?

 He had never stopped to consider it, it was true. Perhaps he had wondered, briefly; perhaps there had been a faint suspicion in the back of his mind that what he felt for Leon was more than the simple fondness he held for all lower species, for all his pets – but he had always dismissed the idea as nonsense as soon as it occurred. Of course, he had never pretended that the young human did not hold a certain… attractiveness for him, that he did not feel a slight thrill whenever Leon manhandled him or grabbed at his clothes. But it had been no more than simple amusement. A game, like teasing a pet with a toy on a piece of string. Not… _love._

 When he had realised the creature was meant for Leon, his heart had leapt into his throat, and he had known fear. _That_ he could not deny.

 D's eyes snapped open, and then he was springing to his feet. He span round to face the creature, at last -- and saw nothing. He blinked.

 "Anyway, I suppose I should be leaving," the voice drawled, behind him. "Reporting back -- mission not accomplished, and so on."

 Then there were hands at his waist, long fingers plucking at the silk of his cheongsam, brushing lightly, almost tenderly, at his sides. The touch was light as butterfly wings, and almost as heart-tearing.

 And suddenly, the room seemed different, the darkness thicker again, weightier, like smoke. It was more than a little like that vision he had had earlier, when he'd seen darkness curl up from the corners of the room, curl up around Leon, reach for him like snatching hands -- 

 Cool arms snaked round him, settled, gently, round his waist. His breath caught, but he did not look down. He did not have to see the long, delicate fingers, the silken sleeves, the gleaming nails.

 The darkness curling its tendrils up towards Leon, to take Leon away from him -- Leon, who -- 

 "Sweet dreams," whispered the voice, against the back of his neck. It felt like a kiss.

 Did Leon? Really -- ?

 The arms around his waist tightened, quite suddenly, and he could not draw breath. The darkness seemed to crawl towards him, and the room swam.

 And did he -- ?

 D tried to gasp; there was no air in the room. He should break away, he realised -- it would not be difficult; whatever this creature was, however it had been created, it could not be stronger than he. But somehow he could not move, could do nothing but blink at the air in front of him, rooted to the spot like a plant.  

 Black crept into the edges of his vision. The dark was swarming round him now, almost solid, _touchable_. It felt soft.

 No -- he must get free, he must breathe, he _must_ stop this. He must deal with this creature -- must find out what on the Earth his father was doing -- must warn --

 The last thing D thought of before he passed out was Leon. And then he sank down, down into unconsciousness, and strange, bright dreams where serpents and violet-eyed foxes crawled over his still form beneath a chalky moon.

^*^

 Get good karma -- leave C&C!


	7. Pangs Too Soft To Kill

See Chapter One for all that start-of-fic type malarkey. I did not write this at two in the morning, have had a full night's sleep, and am not high on sugar (or anything else, for that matter).

* * *

He was not sure when the dreams had stopped. They had been unpleasant, clear and cold as marble. But this -- this was comfortable, just lying here. The darkness was soft and warm, and lay over him like a blanket. The darkness was tender. The darkness felt safe.

There was something that he should be doing, he thought. Yes, he was sure of it. Somewhere else, not here, something that he should be putting right -- but he could not recall it, and it was so difficult to think, and the darkness was so warm --

And then, quite suddenly, he was being torn out of it, dragged up into consciousness with every fibre of his being protesting loudly. He did not want to wake up, or to leave the comfort of the dark -- did not want to open his eyes --

D started into wakefulness, and realised that he was being lifted up. His eyelids fluttered open, but everything was blurred, and he felt dizzy, so he shut them again quickly. Then he was being set back down, but somewhere soft this time, not the floor. He supposed it must be the couch. Yes, the couch. Well, that was better.

For a few seconds he lay blankly still, waiting for the dizziness to subside. And then he remembered. The creature -- his father -- _Leon_. That was what he had to do. He had to find out what his father was trying to do, and, whatever it was, he had to stop it. Lying here on the couch was not going to help, at any rate.

He raised himself, gingerly, onto his elbows, and half-sat up, and then the pain hit him like a brick. It was dull, leaden, crushing, at his sides, across his stomach, all around his waist, and made him gasp for breath and feel that the room was spinning around him. And then there were hands on his shoulders and he was being pushed down, pressed firmly into the couch and held there, and a gruff, familiar voice was saying: "Keep still, you fucking idiot. You're hurt."

D's head swam. He lay still for a moment, concentrating on trying to breathe. When the dizziness had faded a little he opened his eyes, and blinked a few times.

"Leon?" he whispered.

"You just sit tight, okay? I'm gonna call an ambulance."

"What -- ? No!" D protested, weakly. "Really, Detective, there will be no need -- "

"Huh? Quit being stupid, D! You were unconscious on the floor. You need to see a goddamn doctor!"

The beep of cellphone buttons being pressed.

"Please, Detective." D forced himself into a half-sitting position and peered up at Leon who was standing over him, frowning. His vision was a little less blurred now, at least. "I am begging you. No doctors."

He supposed he must have sounded rather desperate, since Leon stopped dialling. He looked unconvinced still, but put the cellphone away.

"Okay, fine." Leon scowled. "Just don't come crying to me if you wake up dead in the morning."

D managed a tiny smile at that, and sank back down onto the couch. It hurt to move, and he winced before he could stop himself.

"Shit! You okay?" Leon crouched down beside D and looked into his face intently, his scowl fading. D nodded weakly, and blinked up at Leon, whom he could see quite clearly now. The human's expression was still fierce, but there was something else behind it, D realised now -- something that looked very much like concern.

Unbidden, the memory of the creature's earlier words rose in his mind. _He does, you know... Love you._

Of course.

And this was almost too perfect to have been planned. He had hardly expected to wake up in Never-Never-Land, but this -- leaving him humiliatingly, physically vulnerable, and with not a soul but Leon around to help -- this was beyond cruel.

Well, that was not strictly true. The animals would do their best to help take care of him, and he never took long to heal. He should send Leon away again, should get him out of here as quickly as possible. It was not fair that he should be drawn into whatever was happening here. But it seemed unlikely that Leon would listen to him, and he felt so weak, and in truth he was not sure that he could even stand up --

"So, you going to tell me what the hell happened to you?" Leon was saying. "Like who did this? If you think they're gonna come back or anything I can call the station -- "

"That… will not be necessary, thank you, Detective," D murmured. And indeed, he was almost certain that the creature would not return. As for whatever else might happen -- well, there was little that the police department would be able to do to help. "And I must confess, I do not know that _I_ am entirely sure what happened." Then a thought occurred to D, and it was his turn to frown. "Might I enquire, Detective," he asked, "Why you are here? I had asked you to leave -- "

"Yeah, after spacing out on me and then looking like you'd seen a goddamn ghost. I'm a detective, okay? I wasn't gonna leave you acting all weird like that without finding out what the hell was going on." Leon glowered down at the floor and bit his lip, and for a moment he looked uncertain. It was most odd. Then he glanced back up, and muttered, "I was worried about you, okay, moron?" And then, unnecessarily: "Jesus _fuck_, D."

* * *

And it was true. Leon hadn't quite realised it until he'd actually blurted it out, but yeah, it was true. He _had_ been worried. Worried about D.

Jesus.

He'd been more confused than anything at first, after D had kicked him out of the shop. Too confused to even get properly pissed off, which was a first. He just didn't get it. One minute D had been fine, if a little quiet. The next he'd been staring into space like some kind of zombie, looking right through Leon -- then telling him to get the hell out of his shop and go home. Well, not exactly in those words, but Leon had gotten the message.

And the weird thing -- well, the weirder-than-normal thing -- was, he didn't have a fucking clue what had triggered it. It wasn't like he'd said or done anything particularly offensive, or at least he didn't think so, and he hadn't even knocked over a teacup or accidentally trodden on any of the animals. He'd just said a couple of things about Jill, and then asked if D thought he should get a pet, and he couldn't see what was wrong with that. Hell, D should have been glad he was getting offered more business if anything. That guy was just too damn weird sometimes.

By the time he'd gotten to the end of the street, he'd decided the pet thing was probably a bad idea anyway. It had just been a stupid spur-of-the-moment thing, and anyway, he didn't have the time to look after a goddamn goldfish, never mind a proper pet. Still didn't explain what had gotten into D, though.

Leon was halfway back to his apartment by the time it occurred to him that something might really be wrong.

D freaking out -- that just… wasn't right. D never freaked out. Sure, he got upset over stupid shit, and he threw hissy-fits all the time, but they never lasted long, and he always told Leon what was bothering him. Usually at considerable length, and with plenty of politely-worded insults thrown in for good measure. Tonight he'd just kind of… shut off. Like there was something he didn't want to tell Leon. Which, when he thought about it, looked pretty fucking shady. D had to be up to something.

But then, he hadn't seemed pissed so much as… scared. Leon had had to stop and think that over for a few seconds, it seemed so unlikely. D and scared just didn't go together. He never acted like that, _ever_. However big of a snit he was in, he'd never just kicked Leon out without a reason before, or acted frightened -- even when he was standing in the path of a stampeding horse. It would have to take something big to shake him up like this, Leon figured. Something _really_ fucking big.

Then, of course, he'd realised he had to go back. He'd argued with himself about it at first -- why the hell should he care what was bothering D, anyway? -- and he'd still been arguing with himself by the time he made it back to the pet shop and found the front door half-open, and the whole place spookily quiet.

He'd kind of forgotten about the argument when he saw D unconscious on the floor. But it was only now, feeling it slow down, that he realised his heart had been racing; only now, remembering to exhale, that he realised he'd been holding his breath. Refusing to go to the hospital was damn stupid, but still, he didn't think he'd ever actually been _glad_ to see D acting something like his normal, infuriating self before.

D still looked kind of out of it, though. He was white as ever, but with only a shade of his usual pale glow, and his eyes were half-closed, one hand drooping limply over the side of the couch. Which probably wasn't the best place for him if he _was_ hurt.

"D?" he ventured.

"Mmm?"

"You, uh -- you probably ought to go lie down or something."

"I was under the impression that that was what I was doing, Detective." D's lips curved briefly in the faintest shadow of his usual, amused smile, and Leon found himself blinking at how weak D's voice sounded. For some reason, he _really _didn't like it.

He scowled. "I meant on your bed, stupid. Since you're not gonna let me take you to the goddamn hospital."

D blinked. "Oh," he murmured. "Yes. Very well."

"Think you can get up?"

He shook his head slowly. "I… do not believe so, Detective. I am afraid you will have to carry me." The small smile that touched his lips stayed for just a half-second, and then was replaced by something different, more troubled.

Leon frowned, but didn't comment on it. D was probably still a little freaked by whatever had gone on here, that was all. And there were more important things for him to be concentrating on right now. He could ask questions in a minute or two.

He took a deep breath. "Okay," he said. "You just hang on to me." And then he put one of his arms round D's slender shoulders, hooked the other one under his knees, and scooped him up. D gave a faint little sigh, but then let his head settle against Leon's shoulder.

"You okay?"

"Yes. Yes, I think so."

"Well, you're gonna have to give me some directions. I ain't standing here all night."

* * *

He should have know D would live somewhere like this, Leon guessed. Silk sheets and a four-poster bed, like a princess in some kind of stupid period movie, plus God-knew-how-many cushions and ornaments, and intricately-carved bits of furniture scattered around the place. He'd only paused to look round the room for half a second though, since he'd been kind of preoccupied with putting D down somewhere safely before he dropped him. Not that he was heavy -- quite the opposite, especially if you stopped to think about all the cakes and chocolate the guy put away -- but they'd been round so many twists and turns and corners that Leon was starting to get dizzy. How the hell he was going to get out again, he had no idea. The place was like a goddamn maze.

"Detective?" D's voice was soft, uncertain.

"Yeah?"

A moment's pause. "Nothing," D murmured, at last, and let his eyes drift closed. He still looked troubled, Leon realised. Kind of drawn, too, and surprisingly little lying among all those overstuffed cushions, and his breathing was a little laboured. Leon almost winced, recalling the way his heart had lurched when he'd walked into the shop, the way D had whimpered quietly, still only half-conscious, when Leon put him down on the sofa, the way he'd gasped in pain when he tried to sit up. He was obviously still in a pretty bad way. The had to be _something_ Leon could do, even if D wasn't willing to see a doctor like a sane person -- at the very least, he should try and get a look at D's injuries, to see how bad they were. Hell, if he had to, he could just call an ambulance anyway, and D would damn well have to put up with having his ass saved.

"D?"

Mismatched eyes flickered open. "Yes, Detective?"

"Look – if you're not gonna let me take you to the hospital, will you at least let me take a look at you? You're hurt. You might need…" he trailed off. "Help."

D blinked at him. He said nothing for a moment, and a tiny frown crossed his face. But then he just nodded, and said, "Ah, yes. I suppose you are right."

"Uh, okay…" Leon took a deep breath, thinking he'd _really_ have to stop and remember that one later. D saying "you are right" wasn't something that happened every day, after all. His hands hovered over one of the elaborate-looking fasteners on D's outfit for a moment before dropping back to his side. He could hardly even manage to get a bra strap undone without difficulty most of the time, and the… thing… D was wearing looked a lot more complicated than that. Not, his brain reminded him, that he'd been anywhere near a real live girl in months. And where the hell had that comparison come from, anyway? "Ah, could you…?" He gestured at the fastener.

"Of course." D gave a faint flicker of smile, and for once Leon was almost relieved that he was okay enough to be amused, but then the rich fabric parted over skin, and he found himself feeling faintly ill instead.

D's skin, most of it, was smooth and milky-pale, just like you'd expect, except for the bruises. Huge bruises, that kind of reddish-purple colour that meant they'd happened recently, and some of them looked like they were going to turn out pretty bad. They were in a strange pattern, too, not like normal bruises – all across D's abdomen and, as far as Leon could tell, going right round his waist. Like something had wrapped round there and tried to crush him. Jesus _fuck_. Before Leon had quite realised he was doing it, he'd reached out with his right hand and touched his fingers to the edge of one of those bruises. His hand brushed D's skin where it was undamaged, still pale, and it was cool, but the bruised skin was warm, and tender – fragile, like it might burst if he pressed too hard –

D winced, and Leon snatched his hand away.

"Jesus," he blurted, "what the hell happened to you, D? You lose a fight with a boa constrictor or something?"

D smiled weakly. "Something like that."

Leon blinked at him for a second as he tried to process that one. Did D mean he'd really been attacked by one of his weird-ass pets? And he hadn't even thought to _warn_ Leon about it? The thing could still be running (slithering?) round loose here somewhere.

"What the hell?" he demanded. "Why didn't you tell me? Is it still -- " He glanced around the room, as though something monstrous might suddenly loom out of the shadows at him. " -- _here_?"

"No. Please, Detective, there is no reason for concern. There is no -- " D's face clouded for a split second. " -- immediate danger." Then his expression resolved. "There are certainly no dangerous animals in the vicinity, at any rate."

This time, he sounded certain enough that Leon relaxed back in the chair a little. He still wasn't entirely convinced, though. The door had been open when he came in – maybe D was right, and the creature that had attacked him had gotten out that way. He probably ought to call the station or something about that. Those things were dangerous. He'd heard stories about them doing pretty serious damage to people -- sometimes even crushing them to death --

Next thing Leon knew, he was grabbing his cellphone again. "Okay," he mumbled, "This time I really _am_ calling a goddamn ambulance."

D's eyes widened. "No!" The pleading note from earlier was back in his voice then. "Detective -- please. It will be of no help to me if you do."

Leon frowned at him. "What, and just staying here not doing anything about it _is_ gonna help?"

"No. But -- " D broke off, blinked, and looked back at him more steadily, but there was still faint panic in his expression. "Please, trust me in this. Going to the hospital would be more trouble than it is worth, Detective. That is all."

"Getting better isn't worth the trouble? What the hell are you on, D? You could be seriously -- "

"I shall be fine." A faint, wobbly smile that looked like it took a lot more effort than D's usual smirks. "I feel a little better already, in fact."

Leon raised his eyebrows, but shoved the cellphone back in his pocket. "O_kay_, okay. Whatever you say," he muttered, hoping his skepticism was obvious. "But like I said, just don't come whining to me if -- ah, shit."

D's mouth quirked, but for once he didn't comment on Leon's choice of language. Instead: "What on Earth is the matter now, Detective?" he asked.

Leon groaned. "Nothing."

Which was kind of true. It was just that -- as he'd just realised -- if D wasn't willing to be persuaded on the seeing-a-doctor front, there was no way Leon was getting any sleep tonight. He couldn't in all conscience leave D on his own when he was in this state. The idiot needed somebody to keep an eye on him, make sure he didn't get worse, and it looked like that somebody would have to be Leon. Which, he guessed, meant crashing on D's couch. Not something he really wanted to do, especially with that fucking goat thing running loose around the place. Unless --

"Look, D are you _sure_ you won't let me call a doctor?" he tried, one last time.

"Quite sure, Detective." D murmured, and stifled a yawn. Leon wasn't quite sure if it was faked or not. "I simply need to rest. Nothing more."

Leon rolled his eyes. "Fine. Look, uh, you gonna be okay on your own for a minute? I'm just gonna go make a phone call…"

A sleepy smile. "Of course, Detective."

* * *

The clearing was empty now. Cold, too, frost sugaring the sharp grass. All was quiet. Still and bright, and empty. It had not been so before, he was sure. No; his grandfather had been here. Yes. And there had been sound, a sound like the rustling of leaves.

A voice called out, and he turned -- turned again -- cast around for the source of it -- but there was nothing. Nothing answered. The silence weighed heavy in his ears, the air cool as a blade against his skin. It was then he realised the voice had been his own.

He was alone still. There was nobody here, nothing here -- nothing but the awful quiet, and the crisp shadows of the trees, and the light of the cold, cold moon.

"Surely you see it now, child."

D blinked. And then he was in the forest clearing no longer, but standing in the pet shop, in his own warm-lit chamber where the shadows breathed softly, looking down on his own sleeping form. His own bruises, too. He winced, involuntarily.

Leon walked back into the room then, shoving his cellphone back into his pocket. He stopped at the bedside for a moment before sitting back down, a slightly troubled expression furrowing his brow as he gazed down upon D. The detective bit his lip, an oddly childlike gesture, and D felt a faint pang.

"Even he has noticed it. Your father."

And Sofu was standing beside him, his expression half hidden in the reddish dimness. Only his eyes stood out as he looked down at the pair in the bedroom, clear and amber-bright, and as coolly unforgiving as the moon of those dreams.

"You are too attached to him. And he to you; that I own." Sofu turned his head sharply, the fullness of his gaze coming to rest on D. D opened his mouth, some protest half-formed in the back of his throat, but he was cut off. "I always knew you to be too compassionate. I had thought perhaps -- but no. It is weakness, this fondness for mortals. It is not for our kind. It can lead only to suffering." Sofu's eyes dropped again, coming to rest on Leon, who still appeared to be engrossed in staring at sleeping-D, oblivious. He was fidgeting a little. "He is human. Never forget that. As brief as their lives are, they still become corrupt. They will let you down, always. _He_ will let you down." The briefest of pauses, serving only to underline his next few words. "You must send him away. See no more of him."

D's heart jumped in his chest. "Grandfather!" he began, "I cannot -- "

Sofu held up a hand to silence him. "It is for the best. What your father plans, I do not know, but _he_ is part of it. Even if you will not think of your own safety, to keep him near you would be to endanger him. You must distance yourself, child. It will be… unpleasant at first, yes, but should you grow yet more attached to this human, things will be the worse for you when you lose him. And lose him you will." A final look at D, and Sofu's expression softened. His voice dropped, and this time his tone was almost kind. "You have a great capacity for love, child. But to waste it on a single being, a single _human_, would be folly. There is no species less deserving."

Then he was gone. D realised his eyes were wide with shock; he closed them and was still for a moment, trying to calm his fluttering heart. (How ridiculous that his pulse should race in such a fashion, when he was not even in his own body!)

He could not deny the truth of Sofu's words, however.

As a child, his grandfather had tried hard to instil in him the proper disdain for mortals. It had not worked, not entirely -- D had never been able to judge quite so harshly as his fathers, had always hoped against hope that the second chances he offered would not be ruined -- but an aversion to close attachments, a slight distaste, had lingered in him. It was not so very surprising; he had been told many tales of human depravity, and a few stories, recounted in hushed tones, of spirits who had fallen in love with mortals, and finally been driven mad by a grief that spanned eternities.

It made sense, everything his grandfather had said -- very good sense. And yet --

And yet --

To send Leon away now, to refuse to see him -- never to see him again? It was somehow unthinkable.

He was… used to Leon, he supposed. Suddenly, it was impossible to imagine a day when the detective did not storm into the pet shop, scowling and blustering, and welcome as fire in the cold of January. It was impossible to imagine a day when he did not have to soothe Leon's temper, to sit smiling calmly until Leon's current fit of rage had worn itself out -- and smiling to himself, privately, with a satisfaction far deeper -- far more real than he ever dared show, or even acknowledge.

When, exactly, D wondered, had this human become quite so necessary to him, such an integral part of his existence? If only he had noticed -- perhaps he would have been able to do something to stop it. But this had been no lightning-bolt, no sudden change; it had crept up on him as slowly as sleep, and now it weighed heavily on him, like sleep. He could not escape it.

His gaze fell upon the young man at his bedside. Leon still looked a little bothered; he was still frowning. And then, as D watched, he leaned forward, seemed to peer at something through the gloom, and then reached out and took one of his hands. He looked down at it for a long moment, then caressed it, sweeping his thumb over the little dents where D's fingernails had broken his own skin. The touch looked so soft, so gentle -- something he had never imagined from Leon. Another pang cut through him, and he could not be sure whether it was tenderness or sorrow.

The air in the room felt heavier, suddenly -- and then he could no longer feel himself standing there, outside his body. He was being dragged back into himself, pulled out of this strange half-dream. His eyelids drooped.

What was he to do, now? Were he to wake up, he should tell Leon to leave, he knew that. But could he bring himself to do it, to follow his grandfather's advice? Sofu had been right -- he could not argue with that -- and yet something about it seemed so wrong.

Perhaps for now he could just sleep. Perhaps he could think about it tomorrow. Yes. Tomorrow. Tonight was too soon, was too much -- it was all too much --

* * *

Leon had called the station and let them know that there was possibly a rampaging boa constrictor (could boa constrictors rampage? He wasn't sure, but he thought it had made his point) on the loose in Chinatown, which had made him feel slightly less useless, at least. He hadn't gotten hold of anybody he knew that well, and the guy on the other end of the line had sounded like he thought Leon was mad, but hell, he'd tried. Wasn't _his_ fault that weird shit stuck to D like flies on honey, after all.

He'd been asleep when Leon got back, which meant the guestroom, if there was one, was out -- there was no way Leon was finding his way around this place without a pretty detailed map, and he didn't think much of his chances ever finding his way back out if he tried it. D looked kind of better, though, or at least he was breathing properly and stuff, even if he didn't look all that peaceful. He was kind of frowning in his sleep and his eyelashes kept flickering nervously, like he was having a bad dream or something. Not a lot Leon could do about that, though.

So he'd just sat down, and decided he'd better stay and keep an eye on D.

D had marks on his hands, Leon realised after he'd been sitting there for a minute. Keeping an eye on D was turning out to be slightly more absorbing than he'd expected. They were sort of little, half-moon-shaped dents in the pale skin, like nail marks -- like he'd been clawing at himself or something. One of them had a scab on it. Damn freaky nervous habit to have, if you asked Leon. He paused, then, with a quick glance to check D wasn't anywhere near waking up, he took one of the Count's slender hands in his own and brought it nearer. The blemishes didn't go away. He ran his thumb over one of the little indentations, hesitantly, careful not to wake D up. Felt real. And it just looked kind of… _wrong_. The same way the bruises staining his skin, soft around the edges like shadows, were wrong. Seeing D hurt like that had disturbed Leon more than he'd expected, and he wasn't sure why.

D was just -- well, there had to be _a_ word for it. The way his hair was spread out round his face on the pillows, dark against the pale silk. The feverish brightness of his skin, glowing like a paper lantern in the dim room. And the memory of it still on Leon's fingertips, cool and smooth, and so fragile where it was bruised, feeling like it might break under his hands like fruit.

D was -- what?

Beautiful. Yeah, that was it.

_Christ_.

Leon shook himself. He must _really_ need some sleep. Deciding that D was beautiful. _D_. He really wasn't thinking straight. Jesus. He glanced across at D again, frowned, and then pulled the folded-down bed-sheet up over him, covering those horrible bruises. D didn't stir. He still looked pretty dead to the world. Which, Leon guessed, meant the couch, and trying to fend off that goddamn goat thing from biting his ankles all night. Great.

Unless --

Well, that _was_ a pretty huge bed. And D didn't take up much space in it.

Nah. Getting into bed with other guys was _really_ fucking beyond the pale. However well you knew them. Just not done.

But then, it wouldn't technically be getting _into_ bed with another guy. D was underneath the bedclothes. He could just lie down on top of them to get some sleep. That wouldn't look too dubious, right? And it did look pretty comfy, and _Christ_, was he tired. Besides, D seemed like he'd probably be out of it for a while. Leon could just get an hour's shut-eye, and he'd be up and about again before D ever knew anything about it. Yeah.

He pressed down on the mattress to test it before putting his whole weight on it, just to be sure D wasn't going to wake up. And he didn't, not then or when Leon lay down next to him – just turned over, murmured something incoherent and probably in Chinese in his sleep, and then snuggled up against him.

Leon froze. That hadn't been in the script. And it looked pretty fucking dubious, by anyone's standards. Plus now there was no way he'd be able to move wihout risking waking D up. Shit.

Well, he'd just have to wait it out. Hopefully D would move over again in a minute or two, and then Leon could extricate himself and escape. Well, so much for this bright idea.

He took a deep breath, and tried sternly telling his heartbeat to slow down, and then, since it was the only thing he could do, given their position, let his left arm relax round D's narrow shoulders. D made a little, contented-sounding noise and, if anything, nuzzled in closer.

So much for today not getting any weirder. Leon let out a groan, and allowed his head to fall back against the pillows. He was starting to suspect that the whole world was in on some sort of conspiracy to drive him mad, once and for all. Hell, with D involved, that seemed pretty plausible.

He _really_ needed to get some sleep, he decided, and not sit here thinking about dangerous animals on the loose, or D freaking out on him all the time -- or the fact that he was lying in bed with another guy, holding onto him and for some reason not getting up and running away as fast as he could. Yeah. Sleep was good.

Christ All-fucking-mighty. What a day.

* * *

C&C are always welcome.


	8. Am I Wasting My Time, Being Too Familiar...

In case it wasn't obvious, this is Chapter 8.

* * *

Warm.

Warm. And soft, Leon realised, through the foggy tendrils of sleep still curling round his brain. The sheets under him were all slippery and silky, too, meaning that he definitely wasn't in his own bed. That was pretty weird, since he didn't _remember_ hooking up with anyone last night, and he didn't remember getting drunk either. He certainly didn't feel hungover, although maybe he just wasn't awake enough for the headache to have kicked in yet, and he was still pretty groggy.

He guessed he must have gotten lucky, though, thanks to the small matter of the warm body currently nestled against him in bed, soft in his arms, its head resting on his shoulder.

Hmm. Still wasn't coming back. Maybe she was really ugly or something, and that was why he'd blocked out the memory. On the other hand, whoever she was, her hair smelled really nice. Like perfume. Maybe if he just --

He nuzzled his face against that sweet-scented hair and felt a faint stir in response, so he leaned down, without opening his eyes and their lips brushed, and then --

The soft body next to him went tense for a split second, then pulled away sharply, as though stung, and _then_ a horribly, horribly familiar voice exclaimed, "De_tec_tive!"

Leon's eyes snapped open, his warm, sleepy daze dissolving in an instant. All the weirdness that had happened yesterday abruptly came flooding back.

How the _fuck_ could he have forgotten all of that stuff, even for half a minute? Jesus.

D was sitting bolt upright in bed next to him looking shell-shocked, his mouth open. He stared, wide-eyed, for a moment, then seemed to realise he was only half-dressed and grabbed at the open sides of his robe, pulling it around himself protectively. His startled eyes didn't leave Leon's.

"Detective?" he repeated, more softly.

Leon blinked at him, dazed. Then he was on his feet.

"Um -- uh -- shit," he stammered. He stayed frozen to the spot for the split second longer it took him to notice and be grateful that he was still wearing all his clothes, and then bolted out the door.

* * *

"Look out!" called a voice from out in the corridor. "Hurricane Orcot's on its way in. Secure your breakables…"

Jill blinked sleepily at the sound of angry footsteps on their way down the corridor, and the muffled "Get out my fucking _way_, will ya?" that accompanied them. She'd gotten next to no sleep last night, thinking about funeral arrangements, and annoying cousins she was going to have to be nice to, and poor Grandma stuck in that big house on her own, and she'd still been thinking about those things ever since crawling out of bed this morning. Well, maybe one of Leon's tirades would help take her mind off them. Though what the hell he could have found to get pissed about between nine o'clock last night and now, she had _no_ --

Well, no. On second thoughts, she reckoned she had quite a good idea.

The door rattled on its hinges as the aforementioned natural disaster stomped into the room, wearing a thunderous scowl and, Jill noted with a raised eyebrow, the same jeans and battered Metallica t-shirt he'd had on yesterday evening. Hmm. Maybe this _was_ going to provide a welcome distraction.

"_Morning_, Leon," she called across the room.

An incomprehensible grunt in response.

"So," Jill went on, "What did you get up to after you left my place last night?"

Leon's scowl doubled in intensity, though its potential menacing effect was sadly marred by the vivid (and, Jill thought privately, kind of cute) shade of pink his face chose to turn at that moment. Poor guy. With a complexion like that, there was no need for a lie detector. He shot Jill a suspicious look before turning his frown back on the collection of half-done paperwork strewn across his desk.

"I don't know what the hell you're on about," he muttered.

Jill smirked. Peters 1, Orcot 0.

* * *

D could still feel it. It was a strange sensation, like the cool aftermath of a burn before scarring sets in, just on the spot where Leon's lips had brushed against his own. Such a faint touch -- not even a proper kiss. It tingled slightly.

He pressed a fingertip to his lips, as though doing so might somehow halt the feeling, and Q-chan alighted on his shoulder, chirping quizzically. It was only then that it occurred to him to wonder where his winged companion had been last night; Q had disappeared when that creature had emerged from its room yesterday evening, and only made a return this morning, just after Leon had left.

Although _fled_ might be a better way of putting it, D thought ruefully. Leon's running off like that should, he supposed, have been a relief, and at the time he had certainly been so startled that facing the detective for longer than a few seconds would have been beyond his sleep-fogged capabilities. He had thought, in the few seconds before slumber quite relinquished its hold on him, that this was perhaps some new nightmare, some new torment as yet unimagined, devised by his unconscious, all the crueller for being so bittersweet.

And then he had come to his senses, and realised that it was real, was really happening -- and then, before he had had time to process _that_ piece of information, Leon had leapt to his feet in horror and bolted.

Perhaps, then, it was not as he had feared -- as the creature, and his grandfather, had said. Perhaps they had been wrong, after all. Leon had looked so shocked, realising what he had just done -- hardly the picture of one in love. Kissing D had most certainly been a mistake on his part. That much was obvious.

Yes: it should indeed have been a relief. And yet somehow…

Q-chan chirped again, impatiently. A few of the other pets had climbed onto the couch too, no doubt noticing their master's distracted mood, and some of the bolder ones were even daring to climb up the folds of his cheongsam. D forced a smile as he ruffled Q-chan's fur with one hand, and the rabbit gave another cheep.

"Very well," he allowed, "I suppose it is time for tea."

The thoughts that came to him as he set out the tea-set and cakes were, if anything, less pleasant than those that had preceded them. It seemed he could not keep his mind from Leon -- hardly surprising, really, considering everything that had transpired the previous day. And this morning, in daylight, he could not put off thinking about it until tomorrow. Today, he should have to do as his grandfather had advised in that dream. He should have to bid his favourite human farewell. He must. What Sofu had said about loving mortals, about its being folly for their kind, was troubling -- and undeniable -- enough. But it was that other thing, that warning that to continue seeing Leon would be to endanger him, that cut at D most deeply -- far more deeply than any possible future suffering on his own part. For some reason, he could not quite bring himself to care about that so much. Hurting Leon, on the other hand, would be inexcusable.

When was it, he wondered, that he had come to put the welfare of a human being above his own? And how on the Earth had he managed not to notice until now?

Certainly, he could not argue with his grandfather's warnings; Leon was a human, as fallible and as fragile as any other, and to allow himself to become attached to such a creature would be madness, by any standards. Although he feared that he had already done so. Had he not grown close to Leon -- too close -- he would surely heed Sofu's words, and that would be the end of the matter. But somehow the compulsion to remain near this man, this human, was so strong -- felt so much stronger than he --

D sipped at his tea. The ghost of Leon's touch was still on his lips, and his mouth still felt dry with the taste of dizzying fear and dizzying -- what had that been? Hope?

He closed his eyes, for once ignoring Q-chan's inquisitive noises. If only he knew what to do. He could not decide. He _could_ not.

It must be nearly lunchtime. Only a few short hours, and his detective would no doubt be back at the shop -- at least, if he had got over his shock from this morning -- and D would be rendered incapable of rational thought once more. If only he knew what to do.

That was another thing. He really must stop thinking of Leon as _his_.

* * *

Leon managed to hold out until lunchtime before he spilled the beans. Jill had to admit she was impressed; Leon might be pretty good at sulking, but he wasn't big on the willpower front, and today it had been pretty obvious that he wanted to tell her what was the problem, really. He'd managed to piss off everybody in the room at least once within ten minutes of having stormed into work (Jill, of course, being the notable, saintly exception), but simmered down pretty quickly after receiving a stern talking-to from the Chief, and limited himself to the occasional grumble about paperwork, too-weak coffee and, in fact, everything _except_ Count D for the rest of the morning. Only he'd kept shooting Jill uncertain looks, and starting bits of conversation only to break off, say it was "nothing", and go back to staring into space again. Which, if she was any judge, were both sure-fire signs of a confession on the way.

They'd been sitting here for nearly fifteen minutes now, Leon stabbing his burger with a plastic fork as viciously as if it had personally affronted him, and Jill was starting to get bored. Plus she'd chewed the straw in her Diet Coke half to shreds, and if she didn't stop doing that she'd end up walking back into work with bits of plastic stuck in between her teeth again. Which would be embarrassing.

"So, are you gonna tell me what crawled up your ass and died this morning? Or do I have to take guesses?"

"Huh?"

"Okay, fine." She rolled her eyes. "I'm guessing you had another fight with the Count. Or, you had another fight with the Count. Or…"

"Fuck _off_!"

"So what was it about this time? Did you break one of his teacups again or something? You, know, you really ought to be more careful with those things, they look expensive…"

"No! I didn't have a fight with him!" Leon paused, and looked down at his mistreated lunch. "Well, not exactly."

Jill waited. Leon carried on staring at his plate, determinedly avoiding her eyes. And then, just when she'd started to think he'd changed his mind about telling her what the problem was, he mumbled, "I kissed him."

She blinked.

"It was an accident!" Leon added, hastily, as if the previous statement hadn't been quite bemusing enough. Jill stared at him, and it was a good thirty seconds before she got it back together enough to speak.

"Hang on," she said, at last, "Let me get this straight. You kissed him. Count D."

"Yeah. Well, sort of -- "

"Let me finish! You kissed him. And it was an accident."

"Yeah…"

"And you expect me to believe that."

"Yeah -- hey! Look, I know how it sounds, but I can explain!"

"_Please_."

Leon took a deep breath. "Well after I'd been to your place last night I ended up going to the pet shop, and I said something about what you said, you know, about me getting a pet, and then _he_ freaked out and started acting all weird and kicked me out of the shop, so I nearly went home, but then I decided to go back and find out what the hell was going on, and _then_ D was unconscious on the floor and he said he'd been attacked by a boa constrictor or something but he wouldn't go to the hospital so I had to stay at the shop to look after him andthenIendedupgettinginhisbedbecauseIwastiredandIwokeupinthemorningandforgotwhereIwasandIkindofthoughthewasagirlorsomethingandIkissedhim." A quick pause for breath. "_By accident_!"

Jill carried on staring at him. Then she realised her eyes were probably bulging unattractively by now, and stopped. Her head was spinning.

"Okay," she began, after a few seconds. "Leaving aside how the _hell_ you actually ended up getting in Count D's bed in the first place, if it was an accident, what's the big problem? I mean, I can see how it could be a little embarrassing, but you've done plenty of worse things to him and he's always forgiven you for -- "

"A _little_ embarrassing? Fuck, Jill! What planet are you on? If that's a little embarrassing, what the hell'd I have to do to be totally humiliated? Dance the Macarena naked on his coffee table?!"

Now _that_ was a mental image she'd never forget.Jesus _Christ._

Meanwhile, Leon's face was helpfully illustrating the extent of his current embarrassment by turning beet red. Jill hid her smile behind her hand, guessing that pointing that out probably wouldn't be appreciated right at this moment, but Leon didn't seem to be looking at her anyway. He was still frowning down at the table.

"Anyway," he continued, "he looked really freaked out."

Jill blinked. She'd kind of expected a little more ranting, against both the universe in general and Count D in particular. After all, Leon's essential fair-mindedness in most things had never quite managed to extend to the Count, and while Jill had her own theories about why that might be, whenever Leon came anywhere near proving her right he always jumped back right away, taking refuge behind another list of crazy accusations.

"Freaked out?" she prodded.

"Yeah. Like, seriously. It's weird. I always kinda thought -- well, not that I thought about it, but if -- well -- he's the, you know, the… gay one. I just wouldn't have thought he'd be that upset."

Leon's blush had calmed down some by now, and he was scowling a little less fiercely. Hell, if anything, he looked almost _worried_. Concerned. This was getting more and more interesting by the minute. Pointing that out, however, probably wouldn't be appreciated at this juncture either. Pity, really. This was the best mocking opportunity she'd had all day, and here she was, about to throw it away.

"Look," Jill began, in her best big-sister tone of voice, "He was probably still a little shaken after last night. I mean, the guy just got attacked by a boa constrictor, then he wakes up in the morning next to someone he doesn't remember getting into bed with last night. Wouldn't _you_ be freaked?"

"Guess so," Leon admitted.

"And knowing you, I'll bet you ran like hell as soon as you realised you'd done it. He was probably just surprised, and if you'd waited a few more minutes he'd have been okay. He'll be fine, as long as you go round after your shift's done and apologise." Jill thought she probably deserved a medal for refraining from saying _kiss his ass_ just then. "You know, be nice."

"You think?" Leon was still frowning, but he looked a little more hopeful now, at least.

"I'm sure. Just take him a big box of chocolates or something." She wrinkled her nose. "And for God's sake, have a shower."

* * *

"Ah. Detective."

One look at D's closed expression was enough to tell Leon that for once Jill had been wrong. He'd headed home for a shower after work -- she'd had a point, he had kind of stunk -- and, for some obscure reason, he'd even found himself putting a shirt on instead of one of his heavy metal t-shirts. Then he'd gone on to that Madame C's place D was always yattering on about and bought the biggest fruit tart he could see, trying not to think about his poor bank balance as he did so. Leon was holding the box out in front of him now, in plain view, but for some reason D wasn't pouncing on it the way he usually did. He'd gasped a little when he'd opened the door, sure, (which, weirdly enough, had been locked. D normally left it open for an hour or two after he shut the shop these days), and his gaze had flickered greedily towards the box, but he made no move to take it, and he stood in the doorway a second longer than usual before stepping back to let Leon into the shop.

"Hey, D. What's up?"

"Why, nothing at all, Detective." D smiled politely. "I hope you have had a pleasant day?" He turned back into the room without waiting for Leon to answer, or taking the tart out of his hands, and started fiddling distractedly with some teacups.

Great. Leon could do without having to worry about D again tonight -- especially since the thoughts that his brain had started coming up with while he'd been on his way to the pet shop had been pretty goddamn worrying in themselves.

He'd been grateful -- and slightly shocked -- that Jill hadn't seized the opportunity to start making more of her usual innuendoes about him and D when he'd told her about that accidental sort-of-kiss. Unfortunately, it looked like she wouldn't have needed to bother anyway this time, because Leon kept finding himself questioning exactly what was going on with him here all on his own. And while the idea that he had some kind of schoolboy crush on D was easy enough to brush off when Jill teased him about it, when it was his own mind that kept coming up with the disturbing hints, it was a hell of a lot more difficult to ignore.

He'd been pretty horror-struck when he'd blinked himself awake this morning and realised he'd just kissed (well, sort of kissed) a guy, and the sense of shock and slight unreality had kept him from really _thinking_ about it all the way to the station, and for about an hour after he'd got there too. About mid-morning, though, he'd realised he wasn't really managing to work up a good, irrational sulk about it like he normally would have, or even to feel pissed off at D. Which he had to admit was fair, what with D not actually having done anything wrong, but it wasn't exactly normal for him. He wasn't feeling quite as… disgusted as he'd expected, either. And a little part of his brain was even trying to tell him that maybe it hadn't been all _that_ disgusting, after all. Okay, so D was a guy, sure -- but Leon hadn't realised who it was at the time, had he? And anyway, D kind of looked like a girl, and dressed like a girl, and acted like one a lot of the time (hell, there had been occasions when Leon would have sworn blind the guy had PMT), and he was small and soft like a girl, too. And he smelled nice.

By lunchtime, he'd started to realise that he wasn't just not-pissed at D: he was worried about him. He couldn't get his mind off the way D had frozen so still in his arms when their lips had touched, or the startled-rabbit expression in D's eyes as he'd sat up, or the nagging suspicion that D was scared, or mad, or at least not happy with Leon in one way or another. Which had gotten to him more than he cared to think about.

He'd managed not to think about it -- or not to think about it as much, anyway -- for the rest of his shift, after Jill had reassured him that it was all going to be fine, no problem. Plus by that point he'd realised that he'd been bothering Jill with his problems again, when she had more important things of her own to worry about, and started feeling vaguely guilty about that too (though he'd gone to get her a cup of coffee when they got back to the station after lunch, which had assuaged his guilt a little -- even if she had gagged and enquired when, exactly, he'd taken to pressing the "extra sugar" button on the vending machine. He'd offered to give her a lift to the airport tomorrow, when she flew out to her parents' place for the funeral, too).

He'd only started thinking about the whole thing again when he was nearly at the pet shop -- and that annoying, nagging, enquiring part of his brain that he'd started to think of as his inner Jill just wouldn't leave him alone. It kept asking him questions. Like why he was so bothered about D's welfare if, as he always told himself, he didn't even _like_ the guy. And why he was so worried that D might be pissed at him, since a week rarely went by without D getting pissed at him about something or other anyway. And why he kept buying the guy candy whenever he felt bad about something, like you did with girls -- not that Leon could ever remember buying chocolates for any girl he'd ever dated, but then he'd never been this concerned about a girl being mad, or possibly mad, at him, either. And _that_ had led him down an avenue of questioning he'd liked even less, so he'd tried his very hardest to stop thinking about it.

Only then, for some strange reason, he'd found himself wondering what would have happened if D _hadn't_ freaked out and leapt back like he'd been burned. And what it might have felt like.

Then he'd arrived at the pet shop. And right now he couldn't decide whether he was thankful to be there or not, because he wasn't thinking about all that… other stuff… but D was still not-looking at him, standing at the tea table clinking crockery around, and he still wasn't saying anything either.

"D," he tried again. "Are you sure nothing's up?"

"Quite sure, Detective," D replied, blandly. He turned round, polite smile in place, and held out a cup and saucer. "Tea?"

"Uh, sure." Leon nodded at the box still on the table. "Aren't you hungry? It's that tart. You know, the one you really like."

"Oh, yes. Of course. Thank you."

Only, when D had cut two pieces of the tart -- only a small one for himself -- he didn't start on it with his usual enthusiasm, just perched on his chair opposite Leon and nibbled delicately at his own slice a couple of times before putting it back on the plate and leaving it there. Then, he just sat there, not really looking at Leon, but staring off into space, his expression unreadable. It was like the way he'd been acting the other day, Leon guessed, only, if anything, even more disconcerting. What the hell could _still_ be bothering him, after all?

Maybe he was just stressed about that creature that had attacked him, or something. Knowing D, it seemed pretty plausible that he'd be worrying in case the thing had got hurt out in the city somewhere.

Or maybe he really _was_ mad about this morning, and he was just working up to throwing a major strop.

"Look," Leon began, warily, "I'm sorry, okay."

D blinked, seemed to come out his little trance, and gave him a questioning look.

"About this morning, I mean. I just kind of -- woke up and didn't know where I was, I guess. I didn't mean to, you know, piss you off or anything."

"Oh. Not at all, Detective. Please, do not concern yourself."

"Huh?" Leon frowned. "Then you're not… mad?"

"Of course not." A faint smile that was just barely a smile at all. "We all make mistakes, Leon. It would hardly be fair of me to be angry with you for such a small one."

Leon thought about pointing out that D had never had any qualms about getting mad at him over little mistakes before -- he'd even yelled at him for stirring his tea with the wrong spoon before now, for fuck's sake! -- but he didn't, because D was looking at him oddly, his expression still closed-off. Then it deepened into something more solemn, and his smile faded.

"Of course not," he repeated. "However, I am afraid that once you have finished your tea, Detective, I must ask you to leave."

"Wha -- ?" Leon blinked a couple of times, then realised his mouth was hanging open. He shut it. "But you just -- I thought -- you said you weren't mad!"

"I am not." D said. He got to his feet, and unhurriedly started placing saucers back on the tea trolley. Conveniently enough, standing up had put his face in shadow, meaning that even if Leon had been able to decipher his expression, he still wouldn't have been able to see it. "But nevertheless, I must ask you to leave." A delicate pause. "And not to return."

Leon's heart lurched. What the -- ?

And then he heard his own voice, not launching into one of his usual tirades, or even pointing out that he was damned well going to keep coming back to the shop until he saw D behind bars, but just saying, more softly than he ever had before, "D?"

He was feeling faintly sick, too, and his pulse was racing. And normally he'd have told himself that he didn't know why that was. Only now, he was starting to think that maybe he did.

"D?" he said again. "But -- why?"

Because the part of his brain that had been bugging him all day, asking him questions, had just suddenly stopped doing that. Instead, it was pointing out that perhaps he already knew the answers.

D shook his head. "My apologies, Detective, " he said, "but I cannot explain. You would not -- "

Leon reached out, and caught one of D's wrists in his hand. The bones of it felt delicate under his fingers. Then he stood up, and tugged gently so that D was standing in front of him, facing him -- even if the expression on his face was still impassive, carefully blank, and even if it still seemed like he was looking through Leon instead of at him.

"You would not be able to understand," D finished, even more quietly.

Leon didn't say anything. He just reached up with his free hand, the one that wasn't holding onto D's wrist -- he could feel the pulse there, tellingly rapid -- took hold of D's chin, and brought that pale face closer to his own, forcing D to look at him. The mismatched gaze remained stubbornly even.

And who was Leon kidding, anyway? He knew the answers to those questions. Of course he did. He knew what was really bothering him -- what he really wanted.

He wanted D. And, sometime during the past five minutes, he'd stopped being scared of it.

D blinked up at him. Leon took a deep breath. And then -- conscious, in whatever part of his mind was still thinking about anything sensible, that there really wasn't going to be any excuse this time -- he closed his eyes, and kissed him.

D's lips parted under Leon's in surprise, and he went still. Leon felt the tendons in D's wrist tense up, and for a second he was having flashbacks to this morning, to D jumping back from him like a startled animal. Only this time D didn't pull back. He stayed perfectly still for a heartbeat longer, and then seemed to… well, not exactly relax, but lean into Leon a little, not kissing him back, but just standing there, letting himself be kissed. Which, while not really what you'd call normal, wasn't unpleasant. And while Leon guessed he couldn't exactly take it as encouragement, it wasn't exactly discouragement either. And then it didn't matter anyway, not really, because before he had time to think about it he'd let go of D's wrist and wrapped his arms around D's waist instead and crushed him close, and D was trembling, all of him was trembling, and he was in Leon's arms, and his mouth was so soft --

A tiny, tiny little whimpering noise escaped him. Sweet _Jesus_. Leon had to pull away then, because he was starting to get dizzy, and if D made another sound like that he thought he might just fucking _die_ --

"You still want me to go?" Leon gasped, before he could stop himself.

D's eyes were wide. His bottom lip looked a little swollen, and his mouth was even redder than usual where Leon had kissed him. For a second he just stared up at Leon, looking stunned and still kind of troubled, and Leon thought he'd really have to find out what was up with that, but not right away, because then D was closing his eyes, pressing his forehead against Leon's shoulder, his palms, still trembling, against Leon's chest, and whispering: "No."

* * *

This is where you get to leave reviews saying "And about time too! Were you going for some sort of world record for the greatest number of chapters dragged out of a fic before your main characters so much as even touch each other? Christ, bloody authors!" Or something more constructive, if you'd like. ;o)


	9. Unquiet Heaven

Welcome to the next chapter -- hope you enjoy it. I didn't want to go so long without updating, but then Real Life stood in my way brandishing a big stick and going, "You shall not pass!".

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D had not known that a kiss could change the world.

He had always thought such notions nonsense, or, at the very least, examples of the fanciful exaggeration to which human beings were so prone. The idea was charming enough, as material for stories went, but foolish. In truth, nothing so insignificant as the brush of skin on skin could bring down the stars or crumble the very walls of the universe, cut loose every anchorage, strip away every certainty and leave one quite adrift. No. It could be no more than fantasy, any of that.

So he had thought. And how mistaken he had been -- how gravely mistaken.

D closed his eyes a little more tightly, and pressed his face a little closer into Leon's chest. A fraction further, and there would be no air left for him to breathe -- only warmth and the smell of human flesh, the only thing that felt solid or real in this moment of confusion, of feeling so utterly lost.

He was still shaking, and could not stop. His hands had curled into fists, clutching at the fabric of Leon's shirt so tightly it was a wonder his nails had not torn holes in it already. It seemed for all the world that the ground had been torn out from beneath his feet and he must not let go, lest he should fall.

Perhaps that was not so very surprising. After all, it was true, in a sense. Before -- even just a few moments before -- he had been quite certain of what he was doing, and of what was going to happen next. He would tell Leon to leave, and not to come back, and Leon might argue, might shout and bluster, but he would go. Of course, D had expected the parting to hurt. To think that it would be easy would have been beyond foolish. But this situation, this... _thing_ -- he was no longer sure what to call it, really -- had still been within his control. It had still been in his power to end it.

He certainly had not expected _this_. Of course, he had known that Leon would object to being told to leave, but he had never expected that the detective would step outside the confines of their usual game so completely, kick over the traces, rewrite the rules. He had not really been sure that Leon had it in him. A misjudgement on his part, yet again. He appeared to be making rather a lot of them lately.

And now here he was, clinging to this man, this human, as tightly as if there were nothing else left in the world to hold on to, hiding his face against him as though doing so might somehow shut this new, terrifying world out. For it had changed, his world. Quite suddenly, it was no longer the calm, safe magical sphere in which he held near-absolute sway, in which every mystery was beautifully ordered, clear as daylight, and perfectly within his control. At this moment, all was uncertain. He felt sure that he was going fall -- for all he knew, he was already falling, and he did not know what to do. He did not even know that there was anything he _could_ do.

He was sure no god had ever felt so helpless.

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"No."

It was strange how a little word like that could suddenly seem so important, like it was everything you'd wanted in the world, ever. Leon kept turning it over and over in his head, as though the word might turn solid if he thought it enough times, and then he'd be able to put it in his pocket and keep it. As it was, he kind of wanted to ask D to say it again, just so he could be sure that it was real. Even with D clutched in his arms and still shaking, with that skinny little body pressed up against him, it was all pretty hard to take in.

He'd just kissed a guy. That was weird enough. The guy he'd just kissed was _D_. Hell, just a couple of days ago he'd have figured that that was enough to earn him a place in a mental institution, or at least a spot on the Jerry Springer show, if it was having a slow week (What would the headline be? _My Chinese pet shop hell_? _Investigating criminal turned me crazy -- and gay!_?). Only now -- Jesus _fuck_ -- here he was, thinking that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be too bad to do it again.

He had to be going mad. Or maybe he was dreaming. Yeah, that must be it. Any minute now he'd find himself back in his own apartment, awake, desperately in need of a beer, and strictly forbidding himself to remember that he'd dreamed this ever again.

But the way D was trembling under his hands felt pretty real. And the way his lips had felt so soft, and the tiny, spine-tickling noises he'd been making when they'd kissed -- Leon was pretty certain he hadn't been imagining _those_. Kissing D had been... well, a little terrifying at first, but good. _Really_ good, if he was honest with himself. It had just felt, kind of... natural. Right.

Jesus. That sounded like something out of some cheesy romance movie, or one of those trashy women's magazines that Jill always kept hidden under her desk and pretended she wasn't reading.

But then, why in hell shouldn't it be right? It wasn't like there was any reason he shouldn't be kissing D, or, at least, any reason that couldn't be quickly set aside by pointing out that D might be a guy, but he was the girliest guy Leon had ever met, and that he'd never been convicted of anything so he wasn't _technically_ a criminal. D even seemed to have given up on whatever crazy-ass objection he'd had earlier, or at least given up going on about it for now.

So, yeah. It did feel right. The way D was nestled in his arms felt pretty right, too. He fitted there nicely, and Leon could feel the patter of his heartbeat through his ribcage, shuddering, frantic. And he couldn't be dreaming the way D was clinging onto him, so desperately close, like nobody else ever had, with his eyes shut tight and his slender hands scrunched up into fists, holding onto Leon's shirt so tightly it looked like his nails were going to tear holes in it. (Leon was starting to wish he hadn't bothered putting his decent shirt on after all -- it was the only one he had, and he sure as hell couldn't afford a new one now he'd spent half his paycheck on goddamned expensive candy).

Come to think of it, though, the way D was acting _was_ a little weird. No: it was a little more than weird. Okay, so Leon wasn't exactly going to be writing relationship advice columns for _Cosmo_ any time soon, but he did have _some_ idea of how these things were meant to go. And if you had a thing for somebody, even if you hadn't admitted it before, and they kissed you, you were, generally speaking, meant to be happy about it.

D sure as hell hadn't looked happy when they'd kissed. The expression on his face hadn't been one Leon had ever seen on him before, and there had been nothing that looked like happiness in it, or even the self-satisfied calm that was usually guaranteed to make Leon want to break his nose. It had been more like... well, like some bizarre mixture of panic and defeat, like he'd just looked down from somewhere up in the clouds and realised he was falling without any way to stop.

"D?"

D raised his head slowly, a few strands of hair falling over his face and into his eyes. Leon found himself having to fight with the urge to brush them out of the way, feeling like he couldn't be quite sure he had the right to, yet.

"Yes, Detective?"

_Detective_? They'd just _kissed_, for fuck's sake. This guy was unreal sometimes.

"You okay?"

D blinked up at him and his eyes darkened a shade, their expression going a little guarded. Then he lowered his head again, and his gaze flickered downward, away from Leon's eyes.

Oh, no. Leon wasn't going to have any of that, not now -- not right after D had as good as asked him to stay the night, not while D was in his arms and clutching onto him like he was trying to stop himself from drowning.

He took hold of D's chin with one of his hands and tipped his head up, as carefully as he could, gently forcing D to look at him.

D's eyes still held that dazed, lost look they'd had a couple of minutes ago, even if he was shaking a little less now -- still that weird, dizzy helplessness. Leon could feel D's breath brittle in his chest where their bodies were pressed together, quick and nervy.

And God, everything about this felt so fragile. Suddenly, every little word or touch seemed kind of dangerous -- like they were standing in a bubble, and one false move was going to burst it and send them both tumbling through space.

D's lips parted, still trembling, still damp from kisses and shining a little in the dimness; the breath caught in his throat.

Falling --

"Kiss me again."

His eyes fluttered closed, and Leon did kiss him again -- because how the hell could he not? -- and decided that questions could wait a little longer. Less urgently than before, though, now he felt closer to sure that D wasn't going to jump back scared again, or turn round and kick him out of the shop like last night. Just... exploring, he guessed, since D was still doing that whole not-kissing-back thing and sitting there letting himself be kissed instead. That was weird, too. Not exactly bad, but weird. He just wouldn't have expected D to be so... well, so passive, he guessed. After all, hadn't he been the one doing the flirting all these weeks, or months, or however long it had really been going on? It was almost like he wasn't quite sure what to do now that they'd gotten _past_ the flirting stage.

That almost figured. After all, D sure as hell liked teasing people. Maybe he just wasn't as into any of the stuff that came after, when things started being more than a game. (More than a game? Already? Leon couldn't quite believe his brain was coming up with this shit. He _had_ to be going crazy).

Or maybe D really _wasn't_ all that sure what to do next. He always seemed to have plenty of admirers, sure, but he'd never really seemed all that... well, close to any of them. Maybe he hadn't been into guys before, either -- though that seemed pretty unlikely somehow. Maybe he just hadn't dated that many people or something. Christ, how old was D, anyway? Leon'd always assumed he was a couple of years older, just because he acted so goddamned superior and know-it-all all of the time and talked like a goddamned schoolteacher, but when you thought about it he only actually _looked_ about twenty. Not even that, when he wasn't smirking the way he normally did. Aw, shit -- that was another thing Leon really ought to find out before they -- well, before anything else happened, or --

D let out a soft sigh, and Leon decided that that didn't have to matter right now.

After all, he'd learned some time ago not to expect anything even remotely normal from D. And D had been the one who asked Leon to kiss him, goddammit, and he wasn't unhappy about it, if the little whimpering noises that were starting to escape from him again were any indication, and Jesus _fuck,_ he tasted good. Some of the sticky sweetness from the fruit tart was still clinging to the corners of his lips, but it wasn't that, it was something else. Something that was warmer and not as sweet or artificial, that wasn't sugar, that was just... well, D, he guessed. And he couldn't help wanting to chase it, wanting to search out every corner of that soft little mouth with his tongue -- and D was just staying there, quite still apart from the trembling, and letting it happen, letting himself be explored. His breathing quickened a notch, his fingers tightened their grip on Leon's shirt so slightly you'd hardly have noticed -- and that was all. Only it wasn't like kissing a statue, or a dead thing, or anything like that, the way you might have expected. D felt warm and alive, and as for those little noises he kept making -- well, those were certainly a reaction, and Leon wasn't sure he could ever have hoped for a better one.

So... weird? Yeah, sure. But right now, Leon wasn't complaining.

His legs were starting to ache from standing up, though, especially since he seemed to be supporting most of D's weight (even if it wasn't much) as well as his own. So he kept one of his hands on D's waist and stepped back towards the couch -- careful not to knock over the coffee table, because he could just imagine D throwing a hissy-fit if he did, even at a moment like this -- and then sat down and pulled D into his lap. D had still had his eyes shut, and he gave a tiny gasp of surprise as his legs gave way under him and he slid forward, one leg on either side of Leon so his dress rode up around his skinny hips, and --

_Fuck_.

It looked like Leon had gotten a better reaction, after all. D looked a little shocked, and shifted his hips back, quickly -- a little pointlessly, considering the compromising position they were in anyway -- but there had been a definite, well, a definite _something_ there, underneath all that silk. Something that felt a hell of a lot like the stirrings of a hard-on. And -- this was the really strange thing -- Leon wasn't feeling freaked out by it, the way he should have done. After all, this was proof that D was a real, actual _guy_, not just a girl who was pretty enough for it not to matter that she didn't have any boobs. Hell, it was difficult not to think of him that way sometimes. But still, Leon just didn't feel all that freaked out, or want to run away (_hell_ no, he didn't want to do that), or anything like that. He didn't even feel all that shocked, to tell the truth; if anything, he almost wanted to smirk with triumph at the thought that maybe D really _did_ want this as much as he did, whatever he'd been twittering on about earlier.

"Detective?"

D's eyes had gone wide again, and there was a slightly worried look in them, not quite like that dazed, confused expression he'd had earlier. Plus, his pale face was touched with pink; not much, just a little flush of it bright along his cheekbones. Was he _blushing_?

And even that just seemed to make him look more beautiful. Leon guessed he shouldn't have been all that surprised at that, really. It made him look realler, more touchable, less like some sort of painted doll and more like that was real skin, not porcelain. Perfect skin, though. Warm, too, or at least what little of it Leon had gotten to touch. That had been a nice surprise. He'd kind of expected D to feel cool, seeing as he always looked like he'd been carved out of ivory, like there was no way on Earth he could be real. Nobody real could look that perfect all the time, not even supermodels or movie stars, or anyone, except D.

Suddenly, Leon wanted to see more of that skin. So he didn't bother replying, just pushed back the stiff collar of D's robe thing and bent his head to kiss the skin there, figuring that was good enough for an answer. D seemed to agree, judging by the way he closed his eyes and went limp in Leon's arms, and gave a soft, almost-surprised-sounding "Oh" that faded into another sigh.

Here, D didn't just feel surprisingly warm; his skin was hot under Leon's mouth, his breathing panic-rapid, except that Leon was pretty sure it didn't have much to do with being scared.

Leon flicked his tongue over the place he'd kissed, tasting something that wasn't sweet, the way D smelled, or as salty as most people's skin, but hot and clean and not at all unpleasant -- then dared to press down with his teeth, just gently, not enough to leave a mark even though he almost wanted to, really. And D made a tiny animal-noise in the back of his throat and tipped back his head, baring the rest of his pale throat to Leon's gaze. So he could touch that skin that looked as delicate as tissue paper, kiss it, tease it with his teeth if he wanted --

Only that still wasn't enough. He wanted more.

Feeling his breathing speed up, he leaned forward to kiss D's neck again, scrabbling at the stiff, fussy fasteners on the front of his robe with fingers shaky from nervousness and need. D still had his eyes shut, was still whimpering softly, and Leon had managed to get the first four of them open before D seemed to really notice what he was doing.

Then Leon felt his hands being batted away with surprising force, and D's eyes snapped open, and his lips parted in shock. He grabbed at the front of his dress-thing where it hadn't quite fallen open and pulled it around himself fiercely, shielding his body from Leon's eyes.

Leon stared at him, too stunned to speak. His throat went dry.

D stared back at him for a few agonising seconds, that worried expression in his eyes again, the colour on his cheeks higher.

"Uh -- " Leon managed, at last. He swallowed, tried again. "Wha -- What's up? Did I do something -- ?"

He trailed off. D carried on looking at him, lost, for another moment before he seemed to find his own voice.

"No, Detective," he said at last, "You have done nothing wrong."

"But then what -- what's the problem? I thought -- "

Only it seemed like saying what he'd thought would sound a bit pathetic right now, so he gave up and just looked at D instead, searching his troubled expression for some kind of clue as to what was going on here. Another beat, and D dipped his head forward, his gaze falling away from Leon's.

"Yes -- and I -- that is, I do not -- It is simply -- " He paused, blinked a few times, and started again. "After last night..."

Oh, God. Shit. Holy fucking bastard fucking shit. Of course. How the hell could Leon have forgotten? D'd been attacked by that giant snake just yesterday evening, and even though he'd seemed okay today, he was covered in those horrible bruises. He was probably still in a fair amount of pain, too. And Leon had been grabbing him round the waist, holding onto him, practically _crushing_ him -- Christ, he must have been hurting him. It was a wonder D hadn't stopped him before now, or even kicked his ass. He'd fucking deserve it. Jesus, what an idiot, what an asshole, what a complete and utter, fucking --

"Detective?"

D was peering up at him, his face still clouded with worry. But he hadn't said anything to suggest he was pissed at Leon, and he was still sitting on Leon's lap, and he wasn't doing any of the things he normally did when he was about to go off in a huff. So... well, at least he didn't _look_ like he was mad.

Which just left Leon to be mad at himself instead. At least he wasn't anywhere near as good at guilt-tripping people as D was.

"'S'okay," he mumbled, relaxing his grip around D's waist considerably -- but not quite letting go. "Sorry. Shit."

It was okay, he guessed, if D wasn't mad at him. He didn't have a problem with taking things slow. In fact, it would probably have been pretty sensible even if D hadn't been injured. This whole thing was pretty new to him, after all -- the doing things with another guy part of it, that was -- and it wasn't like he'd exactly sat down and thought about it beforehand. Hell, what if he woke up in the morning and decided he wasn't too sure about this, after all? He didn't think that that seemed too likely right now, but still, better safe than sorry.

D hadn't exactly had time to think about it either. What if _he_ changed his mind?

Right then, D slid off his lap and onto the couch beside him, his head sinking to rest on Leon's shoulder.

"You have nothing to apologise for," he said softly. "If anything, it is I who... owe you an explanation." A delicate pause.

Leon waited a minute. Then another. It didn't look like the explanation was coming.

"Yes," D continued, suddenly. "An explanation. But perhaps -- perhaps you will allow me a little time, Detective? To... think? I should not wish to trouble you unduly tonight."

_I should not wish to trouble you unduly_? Jesus, who the hell spoke like that, anyway -- to anyone, let alone the person whose lap they were sitting in? Leon opened his mouth to protest, but D held up a placating hand before he could say anything.

"Only ask me in the morning, and I will tell you anything you wish to know." Another small pause. "Within reason."

"You bet your ass I will," Leon muttered, a little mollified. He guessed he really should have been getting more pissed off -- D saying that he owed him an explanation, then not even telling him what the hell it was he wanted to explain _about_ -- but somehow he just couldn't find the energy to work up a good temper, and if he was honest he was still too relieved that D wasn't mad at _him_. So he contented himself with a small "hmph" instead, and let his right hand come to rest in D's hair. D's hair was soft, just like his skin; he couldn't resist petting it.

D looked up at him, and quite suddenly, his closed expression was broken by the first genuine smile Leon had seen him give all day.

"Why, Detective," he murmured, "You are far more understanding than I had given you credit for."

"Still don't understand why you can't call me Leon," Leon grumbled. But he didn't stop playing with D's hair.

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D received no more dire warnings in his dreams that night. His grandfather did not put in an appearance, and for that he was grateful. He had had quite enough to think about for tonight, after all.

He had failed, quite miserably, in what he had meant to do. He knew that quite well. Not only that; he had failed in his duty, both as a grandson, and as a member of his species. He had allowed something to begin that was quite unthinkable among his kind, and now it seemed that there was nothing he could do to stop it (though who knew, really, when it had started? He had only realised it the previous night, but it seemed so inevitable, now -- it must have been coming for a long time). He should be quite ashamed.

And perhaps he would be. All of this seemed to have happened so fast -- perhaps it was only that tonight's events had not had time to sink in, to begin to feel real. Perhaps tomorrow morning, real panic would set in, at last.

Somehow, however, he doubted it.

The moment Leon had kissed him, he had lost control of the situation. He had become helpless, quite desperately so, and that frightened him, as it should do -- to a degree. At the same time -- and a tiny part of him had known that this was true, even before he had time to think it -- perhaps he was also grateful. This was everything he had known he must prevent, but the responsibilty for it was no longer solely his. And if he could push Leon away no more -- why, if he could not, then perhaps he did not have to.

Of course, there would be consequences. He still did not know what his father might do -- or his grandfather, for that matter, were he to find out. Those were things that he, and maybe Leon, would have to worry about soon. But tonight, he simply did not think that he could.

He had been grateful, therefore, if a little surprised, when Leon had refrained from demanding an explanation for his behaviour, or asking any other awkward questions. And, he had to admit, being in Leon's arms -- being held, and kissed, and touched so gently, yet with such need -- had done a rather wonderful job of distracting him from his worries. So much so, in fact, that he had almost forgotten himself. How fortunate that he had regained his senses before Leon had the chance to see him unclothed, and to see that his bruises were already healed -- for then, he was sure, questions would have been unavoidable.

Still, he had half-expected his grandfather to appear again in his dreams, his face set with anger and disappointment, speaking words heavy with reprimand and the reminder of D's own recklessness, his failure. But when D finally closed his eyes (Leon sprawled out, still fully-dressed, beside him), the images that greeted him were not of the forest clearing where his grandfather had spoken to him. His dreams were tumultuous, fragmented, a series of images that flickered and changed as quickly as if he were in a fever.

He was in the front room of the pet shop again, watching the darkness as it seemed to curl its tendrils around Leon to steal him away. And then a monstrous serpent with gold and violet eyes reared up out of the darkness and _did_ wrap itself around Leon, and began to drag him away, and --

The image changed, and D was the one being dragged away by the creature, and he struggled, struggled, and could not make it stop --

He was in Leon's arms again, feeling as though he could not let go, or he would fall. He _was_ falling, falling through space, stars and planets streaking past faster than dreams. He was standing in space, looking down, watching Leon fall away from him towards the Earth --

And then, at last, he was back in the forest clearing.

It was still cold; still clear and frosty and still. Quiet, too. No wind, no voices, and no sound like the rustling of leaves. Nothing but the stern, icy glare of the moon, and the stars looking daggers at him from beyond her. He was still quite alone, too.

Suddenly, as he watched, the light of the moon seemed to pulse, to grow brighter -- a cold, cold light that sent chills through his veins, cooled his flesh right to the bone. A slow shiver scraped its nails down his spine.

And the light was so strong -- it was pulsing, stronger -- it was blinding --

Abruptly, it stopped, and the scene was back to normal. D felt breath and warmth return to his body -- but now it was a warmth that he had not felt before, not in this dream, and perhaps not in the everyday world, either. He knew, all of a sudden, that he would not be alone for much longer. Leon was coming to be with him. And, he realised -- contrary to all that had happened, to all that he knew and all that his grandfather had told him -- everything was going to be all right.

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Leon shifted uncomfortably on the mattress. It was way too hot in this place. He didn't see how D could manage to sleep under all those heavy blankets, even when they were just bundled up around his waist like they were now. That was just typical D, steal all the blankets and then not even bother covering himself up with them...

He was managing to sleep, though. Looked pretty far under. Leon wasn't quite sure how he did it, just shut his eyes and dropped off like that. After the weird, worried way he'd been acting, you'd have expected anybody -- or at least, anybody halfway normal -- to be up for hours, stressing out. And even last night, when he'd been attacked by that... thing -- he'd gotten off to sleep like a shot then, too.

Tonight, Leon'd almost suspected he was faking, just to be sure he didn't end up having to answer any questions -- even after what he'd said earlier. He was still clutching tight at the front of his dress-thing with one hand, keeping himself covered up, not letting go. Only D wasn't lying too-still, either, the way people who were just pretending to be asleep did. He'd stir a little every couple of minutes or so, and his face still wore that same troubled expression he'd had when he was awake, like he was having a bad dream or something. Like whatever was bothering wouldn't even leave him alone while he was sleeping. And occasionally he'd make a little, distressed-sounding noise in the back of his throat, so quiet Leon couldn't quite be sure he'd heard it.

He waved a hand in front of D's face, testing, watching the shadow of it fall across his delicate features in the dim neon-and-moonlight glow that filtered through the window. Not a flicker. Dead to the world.

Pity the same thing couldn't be said for Leon.

The room was too hot, and he was still in his daytime clothes, which was damn well uncomfortable enough. But that wasn't it.

Leon's brain was perfectly okay with taking the sensible route, with just holding D and kissing him, and not doing anything... else... for now. He knew rushing into anything serious would be stupid. And D probably _would_ take anything else seriously -- saying he didn't exactly seem like the type to go in for casual sex would be the understatement of the century. So, yeah. Leon's brain was fine with that. The problem was, the rest of his body was proving considerably harder to persuade.

While D had been awake, he'd had something else to concentrate on. There'd been how weird D was acting, for one thing, and all those questions he very definitely _would_ be asking come morning to plan out. Plus -- well, he guessed he'd been being careful not to upset D, or freak him out, or do anything that might make him close up again and go back to acting all distant. Not just because he wanted to find out what the hell was going on, even though that was part of it, but because he'd realised he actually kind of liked seeing D drop his mask of too-cool politeness and act like Leon wasn't just some schmuck who kept bugging him and trying to arrest him, someone he had to humour and be nice to. Like he trusted him. Because -- Because --

Well, he wasn't quite sure why he liked it. He just did.

Only now, lying awake with D so close beside him, the warmth of him only inches away, none of those things were managing to occupy his mind quite the way they'd done earlier. In fact, it was pretty goddamn hard to think about anything, except D. Except D, and how beautiful he looked -- _so_ fucking beautiful, even with his perfect face darkened with worry and his eyes tight shut and his lips still looking a little sore from all those kisses, earlier, and those nervous little sounds he kept making in his sleep. If Leon was lying close enough to feel his heartbeat, it would probably still be skittering like a rabbit's.

And those little noises -- they just wouldn't stop reminding Leon of the way D had sighed and moaned softly when they'd kissed earlier, so that he couldn't help but think about that. And the way that skinny little body had felt so warm, and so totally, absolutely fucking perfect in his arms, pressed against him, so close. And the taste of D's mouth, and his skin. And the flutter of the pulse at his neck under Leon's lips. And the delicate sharpness of his hip-bones. And how much Leon wanted to wake him up right now, wake him up and kiss him until that sad little frown fell off his face and he smiled again, the way he'd done before, and then --

And the tightness in his pants that was stubbornly refusing to go away, no matter how many times he tried telling himself that he was still probably insane and still not thinking straight, and still quite possibly going to wake up in the morning regretting that he'd ever so much as looked at D, never mind kissed him and ended up sleeping in his bed two nights in a row, and then what the hell was he going to do?

None of that worked. Neither did trying to think about paperwork. Or the shit he was going to be in with the Chief if he turned up late again tomorrow morning. Or the shit he was going to be in with Jill if he turned up stinking of BO again tomorrow morning (ah, fuck -- he'd promised to give her a lift to the airport in his lunch hour, too, so she could fly out to her grandad's funeral). Or actual shit. Or dead bodies -- even the ones he'd always thought could be pretty squarely blamed on D. Or any fucking thing.

Not working. None of it. Not one little bit. Nope.

Leon sighed. Maybe he'd get up for while. That'd probably help. He could go stand outside for a bit, and get some nice cold smoggy air. Maybe have a cigarette while he was at it. Or maybe he'd try and find the kitchen and get a glass of water -- he really could have done with a beer, but he somehow doubted he was going to find any lying around in D's fridge. But, Christ, finding his way through this place was complicated enough to take his mind off _anything_, never mind a measly little bit of sexual frustration. Yeah. That was what he'd do.

He sat up slowly, trying not to disturb D, and D didn't wake up -- he just made a quiet little noise of protest, and kind of wriggled over a little, towards the warm spot where Leon had been lying.

Right at that moment, the moon peeked out from behind the clouds -- or smog, or whatever -- that it had been hiding behind all evening. A little weird that it happened right then. And pretty convenient, too if you thought about it, because --

But Leon didn't stop to think about it, not right then. And he forgot all about going down to find the kitchen, and about how much be needed a beer or a cigarette or a wank or _something_, and about all the other crap his head had been filled up with all day.

When D moved over in his sleep, it looked like he must have let go of his robe (what did you call those things, anyway? D had probably told Leon before, but he'd forgotten), because the front part of it had fallen open. And Leon could see it, all that perfect skin he'd imagined earlier, clear and pale -- and without one single trace of a bruise.

He blinked. Then he frowned, and peered closer. Still no bruises.

This couldn't be right. No way in _hell_ could this be right.

He shook his head to clear it, and looked again. Still nothing.

So what was going on here? What did this mean -- that those bruises yesterday had been fake, and D had invented the whole story about the snake?

Nah. That couldn't be it. No make-up job in the world could be that convincing. And besides, he'd touched D's bruises, and they hadn't smudged under his fingers -- and they'd felt hot and tender, like they must have really fucking _hurt_.

So maybe D had managed to disguise them, with make-up or something -- maybe he'd used one of those cover-up sticks, like chicks used when they got spots, or some sort of stage make-up type thing.

But that couldn't be right either. Even with the best make-up artist under the sun, some of it would have come off on D's clothes by now. The skin where those bruises had been just looked... flawless. Untouched. Like they'd never been there.

So the only other explanation was -- but that really _was_ crazy. There was no way, no way on this fucking earth, that D could have gotten better overnight. No human being could do that. It was impossible.

Jesus. Well, that was another question to add to the list he was going to be asking tomorrow morning. It was getting to be pretty long, that list. D owed him an explanation, damn straight. Though this sure explained why D had been so eager to keep himself covered up earlier.

The moon sank back behind the clouds again, throwing D back into shadow. Leon almost went to switch the light on, just so he could check again what he'd seen.

He was on the verge of deciding that the questions couldn't wait until morning and shaking D awake, when D rolled over and kind of snuggled against him again, his frown fading and a soft little half-smile coming over his face. Jesus, when D smiled -- _really_ smiled, not smirked, even just a little bit like that -- it was like... like lighting a candle or something. He just kind of brightened, and looked even more beautiful, if that was possible. He was just --

Oh, fuck. Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.

Leon groaned as he sank back down onto the mattress, letting one of his arms slip around D, because he just couldn't _not_. And he couldn't wake D up. He just couldn't, not when he looked so -- so --

Wrapped round the guy's finger, even when he was asleep. Asleep, for fuck's sake.

He guessed this was what being under the thumb meant.

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Feedback is your friend -- and us authors quite like it too (hint hint).


	10. The Way Is Long To The Sun And The South

Small disclaimer: My information on boa constrictors all comes from the Interweb, and is not, therefore, one hundred per cent reliable. So don't come crying to me if one tries to kill you. -p

That said, sorry about the wait, and enjoy the chapter!

* * *

It was dawn that woke D. Sunlight stole in at the window on flower-soft feet, sunlight crept across the room and up the bed to kiss his eyelids, and sunlight caressed his face - gently, gently - as he returned to consciousness. Leon must have pulled the blankets up over him while he slept, for he felt warm and comfortable. 

He stretched lazily, without opening his eyes, and let sleep slip from him gradually. He could allow himself a moment to enjoy the warmth on his face, and the luxury of feeling fully rested, of waking without his heart in his throat, or his skin crawling, or his head full of nightmare forests and cruel moons. It seemed only right.

For the first time in days, his sleep had been uninterrupted, untroubled - and perhaps that was enough to explain the peculiar sense of well-being with which he had woken. Still, it was strange that calm should return to him now. The light of day, surely, should have cued the onset of panic, or self-disgust, or, at the very least, the now-familiar nagging worry that shadowed him more closely than Q-chan. This time, after all, there might be more to fear than dreams.

Last night, D had proved himself quite unable to prevent that which he should have avoided at all costs, and, his weakness shown, it seemed quite conceivable that his father might try to work some further mischief. Then, there would be very real danger – not only to himself, but, perhaps, to Leon too.

At the thought of Leon, D felt quite sure his heart should have sunk. And, indeed, a shadow of concern fell across his thoughts, for if harm were to come to Leon, he knew he would be unable to forgive himself.

And even _that_ relied upon the assumption that Leon would not change his mind. Was it not possible that he might see things quite differently in the light of day - might wish that last night had never happened, that he had never so much as laid eyes on D, let alone touched him, or kissed him, or slept by his side?

So much to worry about. So much that might go wrong. And yet still, underneath it all, D felt a quiet, bright elation which he could not shake off, although he was certain it was quite inappropriate.

The sunlight grew a touch stronger, a gentle reminder that it would soon be full morning, and that he did not have all day to lie here and think. He should wake Leon, he supposed; it would not do to allow him to be late for work.

He stretched again, less sleepily this time, reluctantly opened his eyes, and turned over –

and found Leon already awake, propped up on one elbow, looking down at him.

"Was wondering when you were gonna wake up."

D started in surprise, then composed his features into what felt like a fairly calm smile. He had quite expected to have to drag Leon out of bed – the detective certainly did not _seem_ like a morning person.

"Good morning, Detective," he murmured, once his startlement had subsided. "I trust you slept well?"

Leon's eyebrows furrowed slightly, and D felt his heart skip a beat, expecting an awkward question, or, at the very least, a muttered "Why the hell are you still calling me 'Detective'?" - but then Leon simply shrugged and said, "Yeah. I guess."

D blinked, disconcerted.

He was not sure exactly what he had been expecting - for Leon to start firing questions at him, perhaps, or to decide that all of this had been a mistake, make his excuses and bolt, or simply to grumble about being woken so early - but this certainly was not it. He thought that he might almost have been more comfortable had Leon simply found something to rant about. It would have been familiar ground, at least. In one of their usual arguments, D could have been sure of his footing; in this strange new intimacy, he felt sure of nothing at all.

"D? You okay?"

D realised he had been staring into space, shook his head slightly to clear it, and did his best to smooth the frown from his face.

"I beg your pardon, Detective. It is still a little early - I am afraid I have not quite woken up." He smiled as brightly as he could. "But you had no supper last night. You must be quite hungry. Perhaps you would care for some breakfast?"

D was not sure what Leon was accustomed to consuming for breakfast - coffee, probably, or some artery-clogging rubbish purchased from McDonalds on his way to work - but while he was here, D would do his best to ensure that he ate something more nutritious. He prepared breakfast himself. It proved to be quite a calming exercise, and the aroma of freshly-brewed green tea did much to revive his spirits, so that by the time he returned to the bedroom, he felt almost as relaxed as he had done upon waking.

Leon had evidently found a bathroom in the meantime - he had splashed some water on his face and made a half-hearted attempt to comb his hair, at any rate. Now, he was sitting on the side of the bed, frowning down at the floor.

D placed the tray on the bedside table, took the cup of tea he had brought for himself, and perched beside Leon. Leon turned towards him, and stared at him for a long moment with an expression that was hard to read - part curiosity, part… something else, something that D could not quite pinpoint.

Again, D felt a little uncomfortable under the scrutiny. He was not accustomed to being so closely watched (at least, not openly), and Leon's gaze felt too intense, too intimate, perhaps, for safety. After a moment, he dropped his eyes and took a sip of tea, lest his discomfort should show on his face.

Leon's eyes stayed on D for a few seconds longer, but he said nothing, and when D risked a glance upwards, he had turned his attention to breakfast. He frowned suspiciously at a couple of the more exotic items on the tray - fighting back the urge to demand, "What the hell is this stuff?", D supposed - then settled on the relative safety of a boiled egg, and commenced shovelling.

Dawn brightened into morning, and it seemed that only moments had passed before D was standing at the front door of the pet shop, bidding Leon good morning. They had spoken little since waking, and Leon had asked no questions. D was still unsure whether to be grateful for the fact or perturbed by it.

Leon had put on his jacket, and he shoved both hands into its pockets. Then he looked down at the floor and bit his lip, and looked as though he were puzzling over something in his mind. No explanation was forthcoming, however. Then:

"I'll, uh, I'll see you later." He paused. "If it's okay. If - uh - if you want me to, that is."

D swallowed his unease, smiled, and inclined his head graciously. "I should be glad of your company, Detective."

He knew he should not have meant it. He also knew, very well, that - despite all the strangeness of this morning, despite all the troubled thoughts he could not calm - he did.

He thought that Leon gave him another, slightly odd, look before he left.

On the other hand, he might well have imagined it. His judgement did not seem quite reliable at the moment, after all.

Just then, Q-chan flapped into the room and alighted on D's shoulder, chittering crossly, and he realised that Q-chan had been nowhere to be seen for most of last night. Of late, his little companion had taken to leaving the room whenever Leon arrived, and only returning when he left.

He smoothed Q-chan's fur with the back of a fingernail, and tutted gently. "I simply do not understand your objection to our good friend the detective," he scolded. "Uou seem to have quite forgotten your manners." He gave a mock-frown. "I _am_ disappointed."

Q looked unamused, and D was quite certain that, were it possible, he would have 'humphed'. Pets, of course, could be quite as prone to bad moods as humans or kami. Although, D had to admit that he had not been _quite _truthful in saying that he did not understand Q-chan's dislike of Leon. The detective _was _loud, and brash, and untidy, and clumsy, and smelled of cigarette smoke, for all that his heart might be good. D had held the same objections himself, once, and not so long ago.

Still, it _was_ a pity that Q-chan had started to avoid Leon rather than pester him; his constant attempts to pull Leon's hair out could have proved quite useful in distracting him from asking unwelcome questions.

Q-chan still appeared to be sulking. D gave the little creature an indulgent smile, and turned to make a fresh pot of tea.

* * *

It was dusty, and way too hot, even for LA at this time of year. It'd have to rain soon. That'd be good. Sweaty with running makeup really wasn't a good look, and Jill seriously doubted whether even the best deodorants had been designed to combat the smell of single-guy-car-interior on a hot day. It was pretty unpleasant inside Leon's old green rustbucket at the best of times, never mind when it was stuffy and reeking of McDonalds' leftovers. 

There was a half-empty packet of fries on the dashboard, with a fly buzzing round it. Eww.

She glanced out through the window, but the parking lot was pretty empty except for a couple of bored-looking people sitting in cars, staring gormlessly into space, and a lone seagull pecking for food around the trash. Then she checked the clock again - still a good fifteen minutes before she needed to bother checking in for her flight - and looked across at Leon.

He was still staring off into space, looking grumpy as hell. He'd been doing that a lot this morning. And Jill had been grateful for the quiet, at first - checking you had everything sorted out ready to travel and working out how you were going to cope with a funeral filled with relatives you didn't particularly like was a lot easier when you didn't have bad-tempered colleagues ranting and raving at the next desk, after all – but, right now, she was curious.

For starters, the fact that Leon had managed to go all morning without a single mention of Count D meant that something _had_ to be up. And if they'd had another fight, Jill seriously doubted that Leon was going to get himself back into the Count's good books without a little of her expert advice. If they _hadn't_ had another fight… well, yeah, she was curious.

She leaned over, and gave Leon a poke in the arm. "So, you sort things out after?"

He blinked. "Huh?"

"With the Count, doofus."

"Oh. Uh…" Leon paused, and frowned. "Uh."

"My, you're eloquent this morning. C'mon." She stifled a giggle and leaned forward encouragingly. "It's a simple yes or no answer. Not that difficult. I know the topic's rather, ah, _distracting_, but…"

"Cut it _out_, Jill!"

Now, that was more like it. Meant they were probably getting somewhere. "So, he's still mad at you, then?"

"No!" Leon snapped. "Ah… Well… I don't _think_ so..."

"So what's the problem? If you _think_ right, that is?"

Leon didn't say anything for a couple of minutes, just scowled down at his feet as though he was waiting for his sneakers to come up with an answer, or at least yell "Fuck off!" for him. Then, he glanced back up at Jill.

"If I tell you this, no-one else _ever _finds out. In the world. Ever. Okay?"

She shrugged. "Sure."

Leon looked at her threateningly. "_Promise_?"

"O_kay_, okay, I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye."

"Okay." Leon cleared his throat, and then looked down at his feet again. "Uh, okay." He swallowed. "Uh, you know what I told you about - what happened last night?"

Jill couldn't help a smirk. "What, you _accidentally_ pouncing on him?"

A warning scowl. "Yeah. That."

Leon was starting to turn red again. For a moment, Jill thought about teasing him a little more. Hey, even annoying best-friends-cum-surrogate-little-brothers could look cute when they blushed.

"Well, it, uh - "

But that probably wasn't a good idea. After all, she kind of wanted to hear the rest of the story.

" - kind of - "

Because it sounded like it was about to -

" - happened again."

get interesting.

"Except, uh - " Leon was blushing even more furiously now. " - except - without the accident part."

Jill blinked at him, here eyes going saucer-wide. Wow.

Maybe she _didn't_ know her best friend quite as well as she'd thought. She'd never quite thought Leon had it in him. Or, if he did, that he'd ever stop complaining and blustering and trying to arrest the guy long enough to realise.

Then, she grinned.

"Well, about damn time! So, are you guys together now? When's the wedding gonna be? Can I be a bridesmaid?" She paused. "Hey, D is gonna be wearing the dress, right? 'Cos, no offence, Leon, but I don't think you'd really suit chiffon…"

Jill broke off. She'd kind of thought Leon'd relax a little now he'd gotten that off his chest, but he was still frowning and looking away, out the window.

A couple more seagulls had landed round the trash can now - ugly things - and scared the first one away. It was standing a few feet away, looking a little pissed-off.

"Uh, Leon?"

No response.

"Okay, okay, I take it back. You'd look great in a wedding dress. Really."

Leon bit his lip, then looked down again. "Ah, I dunno. He's still being all weird."

Ah.

She waited a minute longer, but Leon was still staring intently at his sneakers (hell, maybe if he stared long enough he'd work out that he actually needed some new ones). It looked like he was gonna need some prodding.

Time to be Agony Aunt Jill again. She tipped her head to one side, and put on her best 'listening' expression. "Weird how?"

"Just… the same as before, I guess. Acting all freaked out and stuff."

"No idea why?"

A shrug. Jill barely suppressed a sigh of exasperation.

"So he – Oh. Oh, wait. Oh, Jesus, Leon, don't tell me you didn't even _ask_ him?"

"I did! Well… kind of…" He trailed off, looking a little sheepish.

Christ. _Men_. Couldn't shut up most of the time, but try getting them to ask just one teensy little question when it came to the important stuff, and you might as well go bang your head against a brick wall. Though that went for trying to get Leon to do pretty much anything, really.

"He said he'd tell me in the morning."

"And…?"

Leon heaved a sigh. "Ah, I don't know. He was just all… back to normal again when I woke up. Sort of. Like he was before we… well, you know, kissed and stuff." (Just kissed? Jill allowed herself a second to be disappointed before turning her attention back to Leon.) "I guess I just didn't think he'd tell me or something. I don't… ah… shit."

Jill took a deep breath, pushed down the urge to shake him, and said, "So you _didn't_ ask him what was wrong. Really."

"Well… no, I guess…"

"Look," she began patiently, "You've never exactly been shy about saying other stuff, have you? Accusing him of murder, drug-dealing, all of that? All you've gotta do right now is find out what the problem is. Bribe him with chocolate again, or something." Maybe not the most insightful relationship advice she'd ever given, but hey, it'd have worked on _her_. "Come on, what's the worst that could happen?"

For a minute, Leon looked like he was going to come back with something - "Set his fucking man-eating goat on me, that's what!", probably - but then he just shrugged again.

"Ah, you're probably right. Guess I'll try it."

Weird.

So, there was more to it than just the Count acting a little strangely. Had to be. Leon never, ever, _ever_ said things like "You're probably right" unless he'd lost a screaming argument first, and even then he'd sulk about it for several hours before he'd admit to being wrong. There just had to be something else. Something Leon wasn't telling - or not right now, anyway.

Jill was about to turn back to him and prod a little further when she caught sight of the clock. She hadn't realised ten minutes could go that fast. Damn _typical_!

"Argh! Dammit! I'm gonna be late - I better…"

Leon blinked a couple of times before his face cleared. "Oh - uh - sure. I'll - go get your bag."

He scrambled out of the car, looking mostly like he was glad of the escape. Jill cracked the door open. That seabird was still standing around the edge of the trash - whatever discarded food it had been picking at long gone now - and looking indignant. With a little sniff of distaste, she grabbed the half-empty packet of fries off the dashboard and tossed the contents to the gull and the remainder in the bin.

"Hey!"

"What? You were gonna _eat_ those? Jesus, Leon, they must have been there all day!"

"…No..."

Jill rolled her eyes, grabbed her bag off Leon, gave him a quick hug and a reassurance that she'd look after herself (like _he_ was one to talk!), and headed off.

Well, this trip was sure going to be fun. Not that she didn't want to go to the funeral, not that she wasn't kind of looking forward to seeing her mom. It just seemed kind of… sad that, most of the time, you only got together with your family when something sad like this happened, or at Christmas and Thanksgiving, when everyone was really stressed. No wonder most people ended up hating their families.

Speaking of which, she'd been promised that Richard - Mister Annoying, Oh-So-Perfect, Bratty Younger Cousin - was going to be picking her up at the end of her flight. Great. Jill guessed that being friends with Leon meant she couldn't _really_ say she didn't suffer fools gladly - but all the same, she'd rather not be related to them.

She glanced behind her. Leon was still leaning against the back of the old green car, staring into space, distracted. As she watched, he fished his cellphone out of his jacket pocket, looked at it, then put it back. He was frowning.

And they said _women_ were complicated.

* * *

"Orcot!" 

Leon blinked.

"Orcot! Quit daydreaming!"

"…Huh?"

"Leon, what the hell are you…? Ah, look, never mind, you just better have that report on my desk before the next half hour's up or I'll - "

Leon mumbled what he hoped was a suitably apologetic-sounding response, and did his best to tune out the rest of whatever horrible fate the Chief was promising him if he didn't manage to scratch up something vaguely legible out of the mess of paperwork spilling off his desk before his shift was up. How the fuck he was gonna manage _that_, he had no idea. Might as well ask him to produce a herd of llamas out of the wastepaper bin. That'd probably be about as easy right now. Maybe with a little help from D…

He let out a snort, earning another sharp look from the Chief, and let his shoulders slump backwards.

Hell, it wasn't _his_ fault he hadn't gotten the stupid report done yet. There was other stuff. Outside factors. The Chief was really being pretty unfair on him by not taking those into account. Yeah.

Yeah. _Right_. He could just see that. _Sorry, Chief, couldn't get my paperwork done today. I've been a little busy trying to work out if I did the right thing jumping into bed with my prime suspect last night…_

Not that it had really been jumping into bed, though. Well, not in _that_ sense. Not really. And Leon guessed that that had to be a good thing. Nothing too serious meant less to worry about.

Only with the way D'd been acting last night - the reason they _hadn't_ gotten any further than just kisses - it looked like he had plenty to worry about anyway. And now Jill wasn't even here to tease him and give him someone to yell at to distract himself. It had been bad enough that she hadn't said much all morning, when she'd been around - though that was kind of understandable, he guessed, with the funeral and all. It wasn't like he'd been much help, either, after all. He wasn't good at the whole knowing-what-to-say thing, never could think of anything that sounded sincere and not patronising or just plain stupid, and he'd always figured he was better off just keeping his mouth shut so he couldn't put his foot in it. So that was what he'd done. Which had been good in a way, because it had given him time to think about D. But it had also been bad, because it had given him time to think about D.

And thinking about D sure as hell hadn't gotten any simpler just because they'd made out a little. Leon still didn't know why D was acting so goddamned weird, still didn't have the tiniest little clue what was going on in D's head, or even what was going on at all, really, because, for some stupid fucking reason that he could hardly even get to grips with himself, he hadn't even been able to _ask_.

What he'd said to Jill earlier - about not thinking D was gonna tell him - had been pretty much true, he guessed. But it wasn't just that.

Last night, when he'd kissed D, everything had felt so strange. Not just the kind of slightly-weird that was standard around D, but real, out-of-it, another-world strange. Like he was dreaming or high on something, all of it. The way D had been acting, the way he'd just let himself be held, and kissed, and pushed and pulled around, the fact he hadn't even tried to level things out with any of his usual clever-clever comments. It had been - well, almost as if the rules that usually held their games, or sparring matches, or whatever you wanted to call them, in check had been suspended, and Leon could do things he'd never have dared to do in a million years, think things he'd never have dared to think. It had been strange, but it hadn't all been bad.

And then, in the morning, everything had been different again.

He should have shaken D awake the second he'd opened his own eyes, should have demanded to know what the hell was going on, what D was hiding from him… but, for some reason, he hadn't. He'd just lain there instead, watching D sleep and feeling kind of reassured to see him look peaceful and rested and normal, not like the freaked-out, nervy wreck he'd been the night before. And then, _then_, D'd woken up and started being all sunny-smiley-polite, like he usually was - even if Leon had thought that maybethere was something a little guarded about his manner, a little stiffer than usual - and acting like everything was okay and normal.

Well, as normal as it could be when Leon had just woken up in D's bed for the second morning running. He still wasn't _totally_ convinced that that didn't mean he was really insane, or dreaming, or in some kind of a crazy parallel universe.

But yeah, the point was, D seemed to have gotten it back together pretty well, even if he had been a little quiet, and even if it had looked like he was avoiding Leon's eyes at times. And Leon had… well, he guessed _lost his nerve_ was a little strong, but he'd certainly been thrown off, and after a few minutes he'd started to think that maybe he was even imagining the guardedness, the closed look in D's eyes. With D back to being _D_, he hadn't been quite so sure he'd get those answers he'd been promised, or that, if he did get them, they'd be the real answers, the ones he was after, not just more of D's goddamn philosophical ramblings. After all, D could probably make "I promise" mean anything he wanted if he put his mind to it.

Still, that wouldn't normally have been enough to put Leon off asking D stuff. He was pretty used to D running rings round him and making him feel like an idiot by now, and it wasn't like once more was gonna do any harm.

So… So, well, he didn't really have a clue why he hadn't asked what was up, except that he just hadn't been _able_ to, somehow, and he'd been mentally kicking himself about it ever since. Jill had acted like it was all so simple, like he just had to ask and he'd find out, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it _wasn't_ that simple, because nothing was ever that simple with D. And however hard he kicked, it didn't bring him any closer to knowing what the hell D's problem was, or what he was meant to do about it, or if he was even meant to do anything about it at all. And instead of going and finding _out _what was going on, here he was, sitting in the stupid station at this stupid desk, not even going out and doing his job _properly_, having to try and make himself think about this stupid -

" - report!"

Leon blinked. "Uh…?"

He glanced up, and just had time to register the time on the clock and the fact that he'd never realised how short thirty minutes actually was, before a hefty-looking folder came flying towards his face with some force. He just managed to duck it, and it landed on the floor with a sharp thud. Leon closed his eyes, and groaned. Looked like he wouldn't even be getting away from here anywhere near on time tonight. So it was gonna be even longer before he got to see D again and ask him some of those questions. So he was gonna be stressing about it for even longer. So it was gonna take him fucking _hours_ to write this damn thing. So -

_Head, meet desk._

_

* * *

_

Slowly but steadily, twilight filmed over the sky. D did not need to glance outside to know the exact colour of the evening clouds, to feel the tiny bite of coolness in the air, or to see the hurrying gaits of the people heading homewards after work. It was growing late. The clock ticked loudly.

Leon should be here by now. Surely it could not be taking him _this_ long to drive from the police station to the pet shop, however bad the traffic. Where on Earth could he be?

Perhaps, D supposed, he had been held up with a case. Yes: that seemed quite likely. If Leon had been called out to investigate an incident, or if he had had to speak to a witness, he could be on the other side of the city. He might well be some time in getting back. There would be nothing so unusual in that.

Although, if that _were_ the case, he really ought to have informed D that he was likely to be late. D was not overly fond of telephones, true, but a single call would have been welcome. And it would only have taken Leon a moment. He was really being most inconsiderate by _not_ telephoning. Quite, quite typical. Unless -

Unless - and a small, sharp pang cut through D at the thought - Leon had come to some harm during his work today.

D had died little deaths of worry over this possibility a hundred times before - though he would have died a hundred more rather than admit it, even to himself, then - but today, the thought hung over him a little more closely than usual. There was, of course, no reason why it should be today that Leon finally received some serious injury in the line of duty - today when they had, at last, come somewhere near admitting their affection - but, equally, there was no reason why it should not.

D's father, no doubt, would consider such an event nicely ironic.

D breathed in deeply, and forced his hands to relax their white-knuckled grip around one another. It simply did not do to worry about things such as this. His concern was most likely unfounded. If Leon _were_ to come to some kind of harm, D felt sure that he would sense it. No creature could spend as much time as Leon had in the company of a kami without the development of some connection beyond the visible, however one-sided. D knew the fates of his customers without ever having to be told, and he held no particular affection for _them_. If Leon were to be hurt, he would know. There could be no doubt of it.

And, besides, even _that_ was less awful to consider than the other possibility.

Leon had _said_ that he would be returning this evening - had even asked D's permission. He almost always came to the pet shop after work, anyway. There was no reason he should choose to change his habit now.

Much had changed between them since last night, true - but Leon still did not know all that D did. He could not begin to guess at how great the difference between them really was - at D's true nature, or that of his family, or at the trials that might await them were they to pursue this - this -

_This. _D still could not think of a name to suit it, this thing between them that was so new and so strange. He was not accustomed to being lost for words - but language was a human construction, after all, and by necessity inadequate. Perhaps there were no words for this.

He wondered how Leon thought of it, all that had happened.

As far as Leon was concerned, he supposed, all he had done was kiss a man. It was certainly out of the ordinary for him, and D was sure that, even a few weeks ago, he would have found the thought of doing so repellent. But Leon had no clue about the forces with which he had become entangled, or the danger that he might be in. Surely he would not be so easily scared away. Leon's scepticism, his stubborn refusal to believe anything that could not be explained by that human conceit, reason - they alone should ensure that he would return. He must return.

As if on cue, the door swung open and cut off D's train of thought. Something Leon was proving rather good at lately.

"Uh, hey? D?"

Leon was dishevelled, frowning. There was a small rucksack slung over one of his shoulders.

It took D only a second to replace his blink of surprise with a small, even smile. He remained seated, hands folded in his lap, careful that no trace of relief should show in his outward demeanour.

"Good evening, Detective."

Leon's expression suggested that it took real force of will not to demand, as he so often did, to know why D could not call him by name - but to his credit, all he did was toss the bag he carried onto the floor, shrug off his jacket, and flop down on the couch opposite D. He jerked his head towards the rucksack.

"I - uh - I brought a change of clothes." Leon swallowed. "In case, ah - you know - " His face was beginning to turn pink. " - in case I, ah, ended up staying over again. Or anything. Uh. You know." He paused. "You know?"

By this point, Leon was blushing so fiercely that D could not help a small smile. But he resisted the temptation to reply that no, he was not sure that he _did_ know, or to enquire what, exactly, _or anything_ was supposed to mean. However overcome by relief he might feel, this was no time for levity. Even his relief was most inappropriate, really. So he carried on smiling, instead, and inclined his head graciously, and murmured, "Of course. Tea?".

He had spent much of the afternoon worrying over the question of what to do once Leon returned from the police station. He simply could not decide on the wisest course of action - to wait to be questioned about what had happened last night, or to attempt to distract the detective, to keep him from asking. Leon had obviously, and rightly, thought his behaviour quite strange, and D rather doubted that the latter strategy would be very effective. He had been foolish enough to promise answers himself, and Leon was far more stubborn than any mule D had ever come across once he had made up his mind about something. It might be easier to simply deflect his questions, to offer some straightforward explanation that led to no further, more difficult, questions. Leon would as likely believe it as the truth.

But Leon did not ask - at least, not directly - at first. It was just like this morning. He left his tea cooling where D had placed it, and spent rather a lot of time staring distractedly into space, looking far more thoughtful than was usual for him, but did not touch upon the events of the previous night.

A couple of times, when D had looked away, to stir his tea or to pet Q-chan, who was still looking rather cross, he glanced back up to find Leon staring intently at the front of his cheongsam. His gaze dropped when D's met it, however, and he still said nothing.

The pattern was rather attractive, D supposed. A swirl of butterflies, golden and violet, descended into a bamboo grove against a background that appeared black, and only revealed itself as violet where light caught its folds. D had been told, by numerous admirers, that it matched his eyes; he usually replied with a gracious smile, and politely neglected to mention that it had been a gift designed specifically for the purpose. He had never, however, expected _Leon_ to show much of an interest in embroidery, or in his clothing at all. Sometimes, he suspected that Leon would not bat an eyelid were D to invite him in for tea wearing a taffeta ballgown. It would be just another _dress_, after all.

A moment after the second of those strange glances, Leon cleared his throat. D raised an expectant eyebrow.

"So, uh, that snake. The one that attacked you."

He allowed his smile to curve a little more deeply. "I believe I remember it, Detective."

"I guess they haven't found it. Well, I didn't hear anything about it today, anyway."

"A single reptile, in a city this size… I rather doubt that the authorities have much chance of locating it."

"Yeah, I guess." Leon lapsed back into silence, but this time it lasted only a moment. "You're sure that's what it was? A snake?"

D sniffed. "I should hope, Detective, that I have enough expertise on the animal kingdom to be certain of _that_."

Normally, Leon would almost certainly have snapped at him, or at least grumbled that there was no need to be sarcastic. All he did, however, was reply, "Yeah, guess so," and give D another of those strange, questioning looks.

Faint unease crept beneath D's skin.

Then, after a minute: "So. Boa constrictor, huh? Guess they can do some pretty serious damage?"

"They are, perhaps, a little misunderstood, Detective. A boa constrictor has never, to my knowledge, been implicated in the death of a human being. Most are fairly docile creatures." D smiled again, slightly. "All the same, I would not advise you to provoke one in order to find out."

"Huh."

Stranger and stranger. Leon rarely showed much curiosity about animals, beyond the occasional demand of "What the hell is that thing!" when faced with one of D's more unusual pets. Unless, of course, he was attempting to prove that D had sold something dangerous, or at least illegal. For him to take an interest now, so suddenly…

The unease remained.

But Leon had not seen the creature, had not even known that D had any such animal in the shop. He could have no reason to suspect that what had attacked D had been anything other than an ordinary reptile - unless D himself had unwittingly revealed more than he intended to, given away some clue as to the creature's true nature. And _that_ was impossible. He and Leon had spoken little about the creature since it had attacked, and D had been quite careful to guard his words. Even if D _had_ dropped his guard for a moment and let slip some hint, Leon would most likely have dismissed it as craziness.

"Don't think I ever saw one. Well, maybe in the zoo or something, when I was a kid…"

"Really, Detective? A pity. They are quite spectacular creatures."

"Knock you out like that, they'd have to be."

Leon _could_ not know the truth. It was not possible. Even if D were to tell him the whole story, he would no sooner believe it than a fairytale - not without the evidence of his own eyes.

And then - then, a thought occurred to D.

He had spent a whole day puzzling over the difficulties of keeping the truth from Leon. And, perhaps, that was the stupidest thing he could possibly, possibly do.

He had fallen. He had fallen last night, perhaps even before that, he was still falling, and there was no stopping it. There was no use in clutching at blades of grass. How long, really, could he go on like this, Leon knowing his heart, his affection, and not his true nature? D's world had fallen away, and all seemed like madness, but surely this was maddest of all. This could not go on. If D had not already lost his mind, this way, he soon would - and perhaps Leon, too. And was it fair, really, to allow Leon to follow him down this path with no knowledge of the dangers it led to?

Of course it was not. And if Leon would not believe the truth if he were told it, why, then, he would find it far more difficult to deny what his own eyes saw.

It would not do to be too rash, however. One must not rush into these things. D would begin slowly.

His voice remained even, and he was glad of it. "In fact, I have several similar specimens still in the shop. Perhaps you would care to visit them with me?"

Leon's expression brightened, interest visible in it. "Uh, yeah. Sure." Then he frowned a little. "You sure they're safe?"

"Quite safe, Detective."

Leon stood up, nudging the rucksack out of his way with a foot. D started forward, and gestured for him to follow.

"Although - on second thoughts, Detective, perhaps I could persuade you to leave the reptiles until tomorrow?" He paused, turned back, and favoured Leon with his most inviting smile. "There is something else I would like to show you."

The detective shrugged and nodded. Count D moved off towards a corridor at the rear of the shop, and started down it. After a moment's pause, a tiny glance after him, the human followed. Darkness drew in around them, and filled the spaces where they had been. Their footsteps faded. Silence fell.

Q-chan fluttered down from the back of the couch, and perched delicately on one of the cushions.

A moment later, Sofu D rose from his seat, his face set cold. A flick of his wrist sent the animal occupants of the room to sleep. They would remain sleeping for only moments - but their loyalties to the youngest D were strong enough that they could not be trusted to keep secrets from him, and Sofu did not yet wish to give the child any indication of his presence.

The young one had, obviously, inherited rather more of his father's recklessness than Sofu had hoped. It was a pity. And dangerous, when the too-quick fire of compassion came close enough to spark it into life. Something must be done.

_What _had to be done appeared obvious, at first. All the same, Sofu did not wish to be rid of his grandchild's human… _companion_… just yet. Ridiculous as the idea might seem, the detective might yet have a use.

Lately, Sofu had occupied himself rather too much with watching over one child. In his foolishness, he had almost lost sight of the other. His son's recent actions had been, if not wholly surprising, a little unexpected - and it appeared to be the youngest's attachment to this creature that had provoked them. Sofu could not be wholly sure what would happen next. He had not watched long enough. He would wait a little.

Unfortunate, that his grandson should have developed so much affection for such a creature. If only Sofu had caught sight of it earlier… but the wisdom of hindsight was useless. The damage was done. The child had, to all appearances, given his heart to a creature who would, in any case, soon die and leave him to nothing but grief, and who _might_ do far worse. Humans had scant regard for nature, or for life. They hunted, even without necessity; they took pleasure in it, treated it as sport.

Ironic, really. Sofu had always thought that they served far better as bait.

He pulled his cloak, and the darkness with it, around himself a little more closely, and was gone.

Q-chan chirped, and helped himself to a strawberry.

* * *

Feedback makes my little life complete. 

Added A/N, since I've had a few people asking me to update: While I'd love to be able to add more to this story right away, I don't have anywhere near as much writing time as I used to, and Real Life has blown up in my face in a big way lately. Unfortunately, that means other things have to take priority over writing fanfic. Don't worry, this story hasn't been abandoned, and more will be along in the future – but please be patient. ;)

Added added A/N: Dear "WRITE MORE!". Yes, I understand that it can be frustrating when one has to wait a long time for a story to be updated. But please read and pay attention to the above. Thank you.


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